Apples
by PurchasedByFools
Summary: Evie Elma ran away for nine months after her life changed on the morning of the Sheppard wedding. Now, she's back but not welcome. As she tries to balance getting her best friends back and keeping her secret hidden it all gets harder when her transformation from reckless bitch to quiet, shut-in catches the attention of a certain Bass... who wants her and her secrets. Chuck/OC
1. Prologue

**AN: First chapter, more of a introduction of the OC. Next will start on the first episode of season 1 and carry on from there but that's only if you think it's worth it. My OC looks pretty much like Lilly Collins so if you don't understand what she look like just search her up.**

**PICTURES FOR CHAPTER (TYPE NAME INTO PINTEREST):**** Manhattanapple**

**SONG FOR CHAPTER:**** Meridian-Zola Blood**

**And even if you hate it, review and tell me, the poor aspiring writer, how to improve it...**

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As soon as the wheels of the plane hit the runway with a startling screech, awakening me from my four month slumber in the smothering Tuscan heat with cold, mind-numbing bottles of Tiger beer and the peaceful sound of crickets and the cool breeze passing through the lush countryside, I knew vacation, and anyway of avoiding the real world, was over. Now, the noise of my feet gliding back and forth through the crystal pool has been replaced by the Manhattan traffic complete with the tonal horns and the foreboding 'click' of five-hundred dollar heels marching on the sidewalk. However, despite the beautiful view of the rustic hilltop town being lit up every night, the New York skyline never failed to make me feel as though I was home. It was the socialites living in the very buildings that made up this picturesque view that made me want to turn the plane around and head back to the safe, open plan cottage way up in the Tuscan mountains.

From the cabin window, the stars in the sky had been replaced by the artificial lights of apartment windows and streetlamps. Apart from the glow of the City's nightlife, it was pitch black.

Rubbing my eyes, uncaring of the carefully applied make-up that would no doubt already be smudged from sleeping, I wrap my faux-leather jacket around myself and pack the books and magazines I bought to read on the plane back into the knitted patchwork messenger bag I bought in the markets of Rome. The bag wasn't exactly Upper East Side acceptable (neither was the grey, worn, knee-length socks or the cheap, ten-euros, knock off ray-bans that kept my messy, dark brown hair back and out of my face) but I wanted an independent summer and that meant no trust fund money being wired to me in order to pay for expensive trips to Florence where I would spend an equivalent of an average worker's monthly's wages on the latest Italian fashion. Plus, designer couture or not, if it was nice and affordable- I'd buy it.

"Miss Elma," the air attendant's shrill, overly polite, it's-eleven-o'clock-get-off-the-fucking-plane-so-we-can-all-leave voice takes my attention away from roman memories to her perky form, "we've arrived and your cab has been loaded with your belongings and is waiting for you."

I smile and nod, thanking and dismissing her. I sling my bag over my shoulder and head out of the private plane, stretching my legs as I walk down the steps and feel the fresh, evening, Manhattan air hit me.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach as the thought of being home hits me. I'm sure a lot has happened since I went AWOL and ran away to Italy; including the decision made by Blair and Serena as they chose whether or not they ever wanted to speak to me again. Me, myself and I hadn't even decided whether or not them forgiving me was a good idea: letting them back in would mean I would risk everything that I've worked so hard to keep buried and hidden from everyone on the Island.

The familiarity of the yellow cab came as a comfort and the address of my loft rolled off my tongue as though I hadn't been away from my cosy open plan home for a whole season and when I finally drop the suitcases on the shabby wooden floor of my place, a little bit of the nerves disappear. Although Serena and Blair did not understand why I used my inheritance and newly stated emancipation to buy a small loft in Brooklyn in which Blair enjoys voicing the fact that she refuses to sit or lie on anything that isn't created by designers that aren't on her Christmas cards list, the simplicity of the layout and design helps calm even the most nerve-wrecking of days.

The dim lights that the shaded lamps and fairy lights create make the loft even homier and I'm finally excited to be back in Brooklyn. I missed the colourful, retro furniture and the bookshelf that covers a wall, which I'm desperately working to fill with novels, and the platform above my bed that I use to work and read and sleep and eat and do everything I should be doing below in the actual, furnished studio but instead I decide to use the nook of blanket covered floor and the array of mismatched pillows for all my daily needs.

I begin to unpack at once, anticipating the moment when there's nothing left to do but take a steamy, calm shower and prepare for school on Monday.

Constance is on my mind as I fold and hang up the clothes and put away every single thing I owned, sparing no receipt or stray hair-tie. Constance Billiard was the place where the dream of a normal life goes to die: as soon as you step into the brick courtyard and climb the stairway to the private school where every Upper East Side princess thrives and strives to achieve the status of Queen, except the few that have realised that there are more important things than fighting over who has the best Jimmy-Choos, there is no backing out of the scene that comes with high-priced education. None of my friends know I'm back yet, neither do they know that I'm coming back at all. I wouldn't be surprised if they gave up on me after I never returned their calls or answered their messages. I'd gone silent as soon as I took off for Europe from JFK and there was never another peep between me and them.

When the only thing left to do was unpack my carry-on bag, I faulted. Lying at the bottom, untouched and what had been turned off for a very long time, was my phone, which I knew- as soon as I turned on - would blow up with Gossip Girl e-blasts and texts and voicemails and missed calls, all of which made my stomach churn.

None of them knew what happened on the morning of the Sheppard wedding; Serena, Blair, Nate, Chuck. And I intend to keep it that way.

My initial plan is to stay on the side-lines for as long as possible, just like I did for the last few weeks of school last year, focusing on my work and staying under the Gossip Girl radar. That bitch had hacked into my flesh enough times to last a life time, so there was definitely no love lost.

Deciding to rip off the band aid and get it over and done with, I hold down the 'on' button and wait for the phone to connect to the network and the loft's internet.

Despite it only being seconds, it feels like hours have flown by until the first chime sounds… and then the music doesn't stop.

First, the 57 missed calls make their way into my notifications along with a full voicemail inbox. Most are from Blair with a few from Nate and even less from Chuck- what's shocking is there is not one from Serena, who I grew up with. My heart clenches that she, of all people, would be the one to hate me the most.

Not long after, the reams of texts and IMs are waiting to be read. I don't: fearing the worst.

Then, the most dreaded- the e-blasts. I hesitantly open them, hoping and praying that none of them are about me. After searching the words 'Evie' and 'Elma', only one sparks my interest.

**Summer is around the corner kiddos, and the weather is not the only thing that is heating up. Hey N, what's your favourite way to cool down after staying under the sheets for too long? Or are you still taking cold showers alone instead of warm ones with B? Speaking of our Queen B, where's your BFFs? I heard they ran away almost as quickly as your daddy did. But hey, friends forever. Right B?**

**But where did they run to? I don't need my sources to tell me S has gone off the radar completely after fleeing from the Sheppard's wedding. And E… we don't have any idea where she is or why she disappeared. Or if she's ever coming back. For your sake E, we hope you escape whatever you're hiding from.**

**Enjoy your mojitos and man-kinis! See you in fall, bitches.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl**

I feel guilty that my first thought when I find out that Serena's missing is how uber mad Blair is going to be now that I know both her friends disappeared. Knowing this, I immediately feel the urge to call her and tell her how sorry I am. But I can't because apologizing for my four month absence over the phone is not exactly the best way to make up for lost time-and I expect she'd want to scream at me in person.

Having decided that I was going to put the whole 'Blair and Evie Reunion' on hold, I slip out of my clothes and practically run to my high-pressure shower (the only luxury I splashed out on when renovating the loft- pun intended).

Showers are my guilty pleasure. On a bad day I was known to have over five of them, all lasting over forty-five minutes.

I take the time to lather myself in soap and shave and scrub my hair clean and wash every nook and cranny- being careful not to get rid of my new tan. I shower until the water turns cold and even then I use the cold water to cool my burning legs.

After an extra five minutes relishing in the water pressure, I wrap a blue towel tightly around myself and dry my hair with another.

My bare feet pad against the oak floor, leaving faint water marks as I head to the dresser to pull out a pair of pants and a XL t-shirt that I got from a gig I went to a few years back with Nate.

The shirt barely falls to my knees when my phone chimes and the screen flashes. Out of habit, I automatically flip it open without preparing myself. it almost scares me how fast old habits come back to the surface.

**Your favourite Upper East Sider here, in all her gossiping glory and boy, do I have a little story for you. Spotted: Our very own Evie Elma arriving at everyone's favourite helipad, cheap outfit and all. Don't suppose B knew her bestie was landing? Where have you been E, and what has your secretive ass been up to? Don't feel as though you are under any pressure to answer me sweetie, I'll find out soon enough.**

**I wonder if S is far behind you…**

**You know you missed me E.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl**


	2. Back in the Big Apple

**AN: First part of episode one. **

**Disclaimer: I'm disclaiming!**

**PINTEREST FOR THE FIRST EPISODE IS ON MY ACCOUNT: uk. pinterest manhattanapple**

**SONG FOR CHAPTER: See the World - The Kooks**

**HEY! YOU! YOU CLICKED 'NEXT' MEANING THAT YOU KNOW HAVE THE MEANS TO KNOW IF YOU LIKE THIS FIC OR NOT! EITHER WAY... review please :3**

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The happy 'ding' of the elevator chimed enthusiastically as the doors slid open into the Waldorf's elaborate, five-star apartment. I had hoped that, it being Sunday and two in the afternoon, it was just going to be Blair and her family. Instead, when stepping out of the plush elevator, I found that the intimate, family day included; Blair, her mom; and over thirty other guests, all dressed elegantly for what seemed to be a Sunday brunch. I glance down at the baggy ripped jeans and converses that clothe my lower half, knowing that if I was going to be forgiven by Blair on my attire alone, I was screwed at _ever _being friends with her in the foreseeable future. Reaching for the 'Ground Floor' button, ready to escape this polite-conversation-and-cocktails-_nightmare_, I hope that no one notices me and my departure. Unfortunately, today, hope hasn't gotten me very far.

"Evie?!" No living, important socialite could mistake the entitled, know-it-all voice for anyone but Eleanor Waldorf. Letting out a quiet groan of failure, I jump through the closing door and act as though I had every intention of coming in.

"Evie Elma, my God! Where have you _been_?" Eleanor doesn't wait for me to answer until she pulls me into a tight hug (partly for show and partly an attempt to strangle me for leaving), her black, floor-length skirt billowing around me. After an awkward few seconds of her rubbing my back and making the noises that people tend to make when they stretch, she releases me from her hold.

"Oh, uh, Tuscany." I get out, nervously eyeing her wide smile- a shark's smile.

"I bet it was beautiful and I'd love to hear all about it over some of these gorgeous tarts." Like the professional conversationalist she is, Eleanor managed the sentence on one, meager breath. "Come, come." Eleanor excitedly pushes me towards one of the buffet tables where she fills up a plate without asking what I wanted or if I was even hungry.

"I'm fine, Eleanor, really. I just wanted to see Blair but I didn't know how busy you were," I gesture to the guests and the waiters- which clearly isn't my scene, "I'm sorry for intruding. I'll just see Blair at school."

The famous Waldorf smile falls into a frown and I know that my escape plan has been thwarted.

"I will hear _none _of it. You will stay, I _insist_. I'm sure Blair will be down soon but in the meantime, have a tart," she forces the plate into my hand, "and say 'Hello' to all your old friends."

Eleanor struts off before I can protest further, though I know it wouldn't have made any difference: the woman likes to think and treat me as though I came from her very loins.

Looking around the sea of people, I notice how many of them I do not know. Awkwardly placing the jam tart back on the table, I tread carefully towards the balcony, hoping not to ruin the maze of Persian rugs with my dirty converses. Focusing on my feet as they manoeuvre through the floor décor, I don't realise that I'm walking into a coffee table until a sharp pain shoots up my shin as it makes contact with the brass.

"_Fuck." _I mutter and I take a breath through gritted teeth.

"You took the words right out of my mouth." My head snaps up when I realise my bump into the furniture didn't just avert my concentration.

Chuck Bass, the one and only, leaning forward in obvious interest, his signature smirk gracing his face and his weirdly styled hair not looking any different from the last time I saw him.

Not knowing what else to do, my hand lifts into a pathetically limp wave, "Hey Chuck."

He rises from the sofa where he sat between Kati and Is, who have both started to type furiously onto their keyboards (no doubt emailing Gossip Girl about my lost invitation to this shindig), and comes to stand in front of me, one hand rubbing his chin in thought and the other holding a glass of scotch.

"I've got to say, when Gossip Girl said that you were back, I was doubtful… it's not like she's the most reliable of sources."

I snort due to the irony of what he just said. "Please, Chuck. From what I remember, you're the one who sends most of the gossip bombs in."

"And I'm looking for some new ammunition." Ensue mysterious, I-know-things-you-don't wink, "So what did E get up to during her summer abroad? Was it your usual drugged up escapade? Or maybe something a little more peaceful… or as peaceful as our little Evie can get."

Swallowing the lump that had surfaced in my throat I let out a weak, "No."

"No? I highly doubt that." Chuck takes an intimidating step closer, lowering his voice as though we were sharing and intimate secret. "Come one Evie, we've been friends for such a long time… you can tell me anything, including what made you run off in the first place."

My palms were getting sweating and jaw was clenching so tightly it was borderline painful.

"Chuck I-"

"Oh my God! You will not believe what is on Gossip Girl" Kati exclaims, saving me from the conversation that I had been dreading for a very long time. Chuck and I both turn back to the girls, me because I'm thankful for the distraction and Chuck because he is drawn to scandal like a dog is to a bone.

"Someone saw _Serena_ getting off a train at Grand Central." My eyes widen in shock, _Serena's back? How long was she gone for?_

Chuck throws a smirk over his shoulder at me before looking back at his glass and taking a swig of scotch. "My, my… just when I thought that things were getting a little dull around here, the Golden Girls are reunited."

"Evie!" Blair's voice screeches from the staircase, a grin (yet to determine whether it is fake or not) plastered on her perfect face. "Hi!"

Her petite from hurtles down the steps and into my unprepared arms.

"Hey Blair," I murmur into her ear, "I'm so sorry for leaving." As soon as the words leave my mouth she pulls buck to stare at me with an incredulous look on her face.

"Leaving? You didn't _leave_, silly! You just when on holiday." Her smile falter in slightest before she lowers her voice a fraction, "But I missed you. Why didn't you answer any of my calls?"

"My phone had no service in Tuscany."

"Bull_shit_, if there is anyone who can find service it's Evie Elma." I laugh at the reminder of the time we were lost on some excursion that the school sent us on. I had to climb this massive tree to get two bars so that Blair, Serena and I could call a town car so we didn't have to take the bus back. "So tell me the truth, E… I was worried."

"Look, Blair, its complicated."

"We've been friends forever, you can tell me anything-"

"Blair! Darling, Serena's here!" Even with the music and the buzzing of conversation from the guests, you could still hear Eleanor's voice crystal clear.

Blair and I, along with every other guest eager to see the return of the infamous Serena van der Woodsen, spin in the direction of the new arrival. And there she is, in all her blonde splendour. I thank god that she's wearing casual clothes as well.

Blair wastes no time in enveloping Serena into a hug much like the one she gave me, yet this one was stiff and a little _too_ calm and collected.

"Hi! Serena, it's so good to see you!" I watch the two have their moment before coming in to hug her myself. The reunion between us is short lived: both of us don't quite know how to act around the other after '_that night'._

"Come we're about to have dinner," Blair and her mother begin to usher us both towards the dining room, "seeing as all of you are back together again you can sit next to each other and catch up." Serena throws me a confused look as if to say, _"You left too?"_

Eleanor looks as though she could clap her hands and jump up and down in glee- if only she wasn't using them to entrap me in a dinner I really didn't want. Unfortunately for her, Serena looks ready to pull another Houdini.

"Yeah, actually, um, there's somewhere I have to go." Blair's face begins to look like someone shoved a lemon in her mouth.

"You're leaving?" Despite being said with a smile, hurt is evident in my friend's eyes. Nobody notices but me: we both use the same defence mechanisms.

"Yeah, I-I just—I don't feel well." I use that line also. _What the hell happened in the four months that I was gone?_ "I just wanted to come by and say hi." Serena begins to back away towards the exit, looking as though she'd run if she could, "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

School. Now there is a thought to improve this already delightful situation.

Blair Waldorf never looks anything less than cool and composed, but I can see that she's hurt- we're not best friends for nothing. I grab her arm and drag her off to the side, away from Is, Kati, Nate and Chuck's prying eyes.

"School?" Even though it's posed as a question, it sounds more like an admittance of defeat- but I don't know what the battle was over and who against. "So I guess she's back for good."

"Wait..." I say, realising what she's implying, "Didn't you know she was coming?"

"What? Like I knew _you_ were coming?" She snaps, giving me the Blair-Glare.

"I really am sorry, Blair." I plead, nervously playing with frayed piece of material where my jeans had ripped. "I would've called but I just- I didn't know what to say."

"What do you mean? You didn't know how to ask me how I was doing? Or what my summer had been like?" She huffed, crossing her arms and pouting like she does when she doesn't get what she wants.

"Yeah, I screwed up big time Blair. But I'm here and I'm going to make it up to you. I promise." I think of last night when I contemplated calling her. Maybe I should've done that… let her know that I was back in the city instead of leaving her to find out from some stupid website. If I did that then maybe this whole 'forgiveness' thing wouldn't be so goddamn difficult. "Anything. I swear on those smores that we made in third grade that I will do anything if it means that I get my best friends back."

Her head lifts slightly as her interest is piqued. "Anything..?"

I smile, knowing that I've got her, hook, line and sinker. "Anything."

Taking a second to go over it, probably just to make it seem as though she had more will power, Blair waits until she can't contain her natural self before she squeals and jumps up and down.

"Okay, okay! Fine! I forgive you E!" She eagerly grabs my hands and starts dragging me up the stairs and towards her bedroom. "Oh my! I have so much to tell you… have you been on Gossip Girl lately? No?" Blair pauses and gasps as I shake my head. "You _have _to see what that slut, Emily Richards was wearing at the White Party- it was positively see through." She giggles, thinking of the embarrassing photos of this poor victim that no doubt are waiting to be shared on her laptop.

In a lilted voice she sings, "I'm so happy to have you ba-a-a-ack." Smiling back, she takes my hand and leads me into her room, stopping short of closing the door, "And Evie," her face becomes serious and I fear that I'm not yet out of the dog house, "If you _ever _wear those disgusting jeans when I'm around, I'll destroy you." Laughing, I follow her in, hoping that she doesn't mean it considering a lot of the things I wear now are a lot like this.

**Word is that S bailed on B's party in under ninety seconds, and didn't even have one Limoncello, whilst E was left behind to pick up the pieces like the loving friend she never really was. Have our bad girls really gone good? Or is it all just part of an act to keep us from snooping around? Why did they leave? Why did they return? Send me all the deets.**

**And who am I? That's one secret I'll never tell.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl**


	3. Apple Red

**AN: I'm desperate to get this episode done but I keep looking at my word count and thinking 'Holy shit, even I don't want to read more than this'. So the Kiss on the Lips party will be up either tonight or tomorrow and then I'm gonna work on shortening episodes because boy!**

**Disclaimer: I'm disclaiming!**

**EPISODE OUTFITS AND PICTURES ON MY PINTEREST:**** manhattanapple**

**SONG FOR CHAPTER:** **Knee Socks- Arctic Monkeys**

**Shout out to that one reviewer (Guest). Wanna be best friends? Call me up.**

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Monday morning and the ringing of an alarm clock going off was such a foreign sound that I ignored it for over half an hour until the room above made a raucous over it. I lazily roll out of bed, smacking the snooze button of the clock as I go.

Last night had dragged on.

Leaving as little room as possible to be questioned on Italy, Blair and I spent the whole of last night catching up on her life; Nate and her were going okay, but she's nervous about his feelings for her now that Serena is back; her dad left her mom for a young male model (which I wasn't surprised about considering Harold was the one who taught me how to walk in heels); Blair had a new pet bitch- Jenny Humphrey, who's poor soul was being ordered to do over one hundred invitations for the Kiss on the Lips party; and finally, Serena van der Woodsen disappeared after the Sheppard's wedding. No one knew where she was until Lilly had told us she'd gone to a boarding school. That part was probably the most surprising part: the thought of Serena van der Woodsen all prim and proper in a posh school, was an uncomfortable image. Conversation over our third musketeer lasted until ten, meaning that by the time that I got home and managed to fall asleep it was close to one.

Now, at seven-thirty, I'm crawling over to the clothes rack. I pull a shirt and a custom made pencil skirt, the pattern exactly like the one on the Constance uniform, off of a hanger and fling them on the floor next to me. I rummage in the drawers until I can find a pair of thigh high black socks and a school tie that I knot around the strap of my messenger bag.

Due to the late rising, I miss the shower and go straight for the coffee, which I chug down in order to ensure my awareness for the day ahead. After applying a decent amount of make-up, I tie my bed-head hair into a loose, high ponytail and grab the house keys before setting off to catch the bus to school.

Seeing as I was living in Brooklyn and trying to live a normal-enough life, the bus to St. Judes was the safest bet to getting to Constance on time besides a town car. Letting my building's door shut behind me, I spy the grey, bleak bus coming around the corner- thankfully the bus stop was just outside my building so I still had time to put my ear buds in and find the right track before the doors of the bus opened with a whoosh.

The public transport was crowded full of middle-class workers, St. Judes' boys and a few Constance girls who either were thinking the same way as me _or_ just took this bus to stare longingly at Nate Archibald who sat next to his infamous best friend not three meters away from me. As soon as I notice the pair, I put my back to them, hoping they don't spot me. When they don't, I want to punch the air in celebration of my narrow escape. The conversation with Chuck yesterday had put me on edge and I really didn't want start the semester with a dark cloud so I keep telling myself to '_lie low' _and '_Stay away from obsessive girls with camera phones'_. So far it had worked, but it was only Monday.

"Serena and Evie looked _effing_ hot last night." _Okay, gross._ My name rolling of the tongue of Bass not only turned my stomach but gained my attention. Turning my music down, I strain my ears to listen to two of my friends gossip like teenage girls. "And I'm not just saying that because any Upper East Side girl that can pull off jeans like they did, definitely deserves my attention." I stifle a laugh when I can practically _feel_ Nate's eyes roll to the back of his head.

"_What _are you talking about Chuck?"

"There's something wrong with that level of perfection. It needs to be violated, _exploited_. You can't be beautiful _and _an angel."

"You are deeply disturbed."

"And yet, you know I'm right." I scoff loudly, not entirely believing that I'm hearing the words that are coming out of his big mouth. "You're telling me if you had the chance-"

"I have a _girlfriend._"

"You guys have been dating since kindergarten and you haven't sealed the deal." Chuck sounded utterly disappointed in his right hand man. It was getting hard to keep the laughter in.

"Who says, 'Seal the deal'?"

Chuck's chuckle is drowned out by the bus screeching to a halt outside St. Judes. Making sure they don't spot me, I jump off the vehicle first and head towards Constance, praying that the day proceeds as smoothly as Blair's low-fat yogurt.

**{}**

**Spotted on the steps of the MET: An S and B power struggle. Did S think she could waltz home, and things would be just like they were? Did B think S would go down without a fight? Will poor, little E have to choose sides? Or can these two hotties work it out?**

**There ****is ****nothing Gossip Girl loves more than a good catfight, and this could be a classic.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl**

I groan when I finish reading the post. _It was only lunchtime for god sakes, _I scream to myself, dumping my salad pot into the trash can with an unneeded force. Texting Blair furiously, I demand to know what went down. Despite trying to stay under the radar, they were both my friends (Serena, only just, mind you) and them arguing just meant trouble for me.

This certainly wasn't what I had planned when I came back for school. Hell, my wish was to completely ignore all of them and the shit that they carried around in leather satchels and designer purses. I guess it's my fault for thinking I could drop the life that I've been living for the past sixteen years and expect the life to drop me too.

My hand vibrates as Blair's reply comes through:

_**Tell you the details later. BTW you're coming to the Kiss on the Lips party on Saturday. I'm not taking no for an answer. –B**_

_**I can smell your schemes from School. What are you up to? Actually, I don't want to know. Just don't include me. –E**_

A few minutes pass by as I wait for her reply, using the time to grab books from my locker and make my way to Civil History. My phone buzzes as soon as I sit at my desk:

_**Too late. Love you so much Evie, I.O.U. –B**_

Kati walks in, taking a seat behind me and inquisitively wondering what I'm glaring at intensely.

"What's that?" She asks, gesturing with a finely polished nail to the message on my phone.

"Blair's death sentence."

{}

The department store's lights were blinding as the artificial rays reflected off of the pristine marble floors and white walls. I was too tired to be standing in front of a mirror trying to find a dress that was not only in my price range, but could also fit nicely around my excess holiday weight.

I'd picked up five different ones, all with the same colour scheme (black) and none of them sat right over my barely there chest.

In the middle of frowning as I try to adjust a black sequined body-con, pulling and twisting, hoping that it would miraculously change into the perfect fit, a small blonde head peeps into the mirror, smiling kindly up at me. I stop and glare, not meaning to be rude but just my mood bringing out the worst in me- I didn't even want to go to this stupid party, _who the hell calls a party 'Kiss on the Lips'? Bleh._

"Evie, right?" Her cute little voice completely matches her cute little appearance and I bet she had nothing but a cute personality and cute intentions. _Again, bleh._ "Need some help? I'm Jenny."

"Humphrey?" I don't know why I was surprised, maybe because I think of lumpy people that look like eggs and are morbidly obese when I hear the name 'Humphrey'. She nods enthusiastically, pleased that I know who she is. "So you're Blair's new prodigy?"

A gleeful smile passes over Jenny's lips, "Um… I don't know- Well I- I was just doing invitations for the party on Saturday." Her eyebrows flash upwards as she speaks and she lunges for, what I assume to be, her purse. She pulls out a pink envelope with my name in such an exquisite font that it would put the medieval monks to shame. "And here's yours! Blair said that you were coming."

Ripping it from her grasp in annoyance, I shove the envelope in my school bag and take out my phone. "I bet she did." I murmur with gritted teeth.

_**Your new lackey is here… did you send her? –E**_

I hated being so rude about Jenny, but my day hadn't been the best. Starting late was just the thing to start my progression into sourness, then there was having to listen to Chuck being… well, _Chuck. _Then being forced to come to this stupid party to keep Blair happy and not being able to find a stupid dress was the cherry on the cake of Bad Mood.

_**No, but use her! She wants to work in fashion, and she's got hope. But don't tell her I said that. -B**_

Turning back to her with a fake smile, I decide to put her to some use. "You look as though you know a thing or two about fashion." Her eyes sparkle at the compliment, "Tell me what to wear."

Jenny began looking around immediately, all I had to do was slip off the dress I had been wearing. It wasn't long before she came back, looking proud of her find. In her arms was a red skater dress with a scoop neckline that helped make my breasts more visible. The waist was tightened just above my abdomen, making me look as though I have curves and also hiding my lunchtime food baby- at least I know that I can eat before the party. Despite the fact that the colour wasn't something that I'd immediately choose, I was just over the moon that it fits.

"Nice job, Jenny." I smile at her, this time genuinely: she really was sweet, but she just needed to learn when she should or shouldn't approach me. Glancing down at her uniform, I notice that she hasn't tried anything on yet. "What about you? What are you going to wear?"

Blushing, she looks towards a pretty, red, strapless dress that hangs loosely from the bust-downwards. "Oh, um, I haven't really decided yet."

"Try it on." I demand, shoving her playfully towards the dress. Jenny squeals in excitement and grabs it off the rack, skipping off to the changing room. I laugh, watching her perky form go. I'd never admit this to Blair, but I'm kind of, _barely_, having fun.

I wait until she walks out, straightening the dress, nervously. She looks up at me, unsure, "I'm not sure… what do _you _think?" Biting my lip, I realise that she looks good- _more_ than good.

"It looks stunning," her white teeth sparkle as she basks in the praise, "but it would look better in black."

{}

The Palace bar is every bit as sophisticated as you would expect from a hotel named 'The Palace'. What isn't so sophisticated is the blonde that's downing a martini alone.

Serena caught my eye as I walked in. I had hoped to find her and B hashing things out, but from the empty glass in her hand, I fear the worst.

Taking a seat next to her, I finish off the drink: partly to prevent her from consuming anymore alcohol and partly because it had been a rough day. Her golden mane flips round as she stares at me through half-closed, halfway-to-drunk eyes.

"Evie." She whispers as though us two being alone was a secret that can only be discussed between the included parties.

"Hey S."

"Evie…" She repeats, rubbing her forehead as though that would make her world stop spinning. I almost feel sorry for her: there is a reason why people do the things that they do and most the time the reason isn't their fault. "I'm so sorry." She chokes in her delivery and a breath catches in my throat. There is no denying that I miss her, or at least I miss the person that I grew up with.

A corner of my mouth lifts up in sympathy, "Let's get you home."

Five minutes, a cab call and a stumbling socialite later, I'm back at the bar and ordering my own drink.

Public self-pity isn't my forte, yet special occasions arise and one must seize opportunities. Nursing a Tiger beer between my cold palms, I hardly notice when Barney the Purple Dinosaur occupies the seat next to mine.

"I love this town." A groan reverberates in my throat as the husky voice of Chuck Bass swoops into my ear drums just like the alarm clock did this morning. Unfortunately, this time, there is no snooze button.

"Not right now, Chuck." I greet lamely, considering chugging the rest of my beer and heading for the exit.

"I'm going to have to tell my parents that the hotel they just bought is serving minors."

"Especially if they serve you." I retort, flicking my eyes to his groin, making sure he knows exactly what I mean by 'minor'.

He exhales deeply, his infuriating smirk still hanging off his face. "I love it when you talk dirty."

"How about when I talk with words like 'Goodbye' or 'Go to Hell'?"

"I've missed your hurtful wit, Evie."

"I've missed your…" I take a second to deliberate, "Actually, I can't say I've missed anything of yours."

"That's because you haven't yet tried anything of mine worth having." A laugh escapes my lips as the blatant come on leaves his. "So, let's catch up. Take our clothes off, tell each other our secrets."

"And then what? Braid each other's hair and talk about boys?" He laughs heartily, "Yeah, I think I'm just going to get a bite to eat."

I begin to stand with the intention of finding a greasy burger van to gorge myself on, only I'm prevented by Chuck saying the words that every girl like me wants to hear.

"The Palace does an exquisite bacon cheeseburger if you're interested."

"My, my Chuck," I say, smiling down at him, "it looks like you're finally figuring out how to woo a girl properly."

Taking my arm, he ushers me into the kitchen, sitting me on a counter and ordering my burger.

As I longingly watch the rich meat sizzle on the fryer, Chuck stares at me but not with a slimy, pervy look but a curious one. There is a question on the tip of his tongue and I want to know what it is, damn whatever the question may be.

"Out with it Bass. I can't stand you watching me like a piranha any longer." Taking a step closer, Chuck situates himself on the opposite counter.

"It's nothing… just that, _I don't get you._" Snorting in derision, I look away from his intense brown eyes.

"You don't get me? Now there's a pick up line if there ever is one. Subtle though, I like it." Now it's his turn to snort.

"Don't flatter yourself, Angel." I frown at the old nickname he used to use. "I'm more interested in what's hiding in there," He nods to my brain, "than what's down _there._"

"How chivalrous of you." The words are said bluntly, but I can barely keep the nervous shake of my voice from coming out with them. He was getting too interested and if he inquires anymore I might even have to change my mind about where I'd like his attention to be.

"Order up!" Calls a chef and Chuck goes to collect. When his back is turned I let out a huge breath that I didn't even know I was holding. _Why did I even agree to this burger? Damn you weak willpower for diner food!_

Placing the burger in my hands, Chuck watches as I waste no time in taking a bite out of the succulent, juicy mountain of grease. I bet I look borderline animalistic as I devour the dish.

"This is _so freaking good_." I squeal with a mouth full of food.

"I'm glad that you like it just as much as I like watching you eat it."

"You're disgusting." I reply between bites.

"And you love it."

"_So_ much."

"Your sarcasm brightens my day."

"Your presence darkens mine."

"Haha! Touché." Polishing off my burger, I push the plate away and stand to leave. Chuck mirrors my actions and backs me up against the counter, catching me unaware and by surprise.

"Hey Chuck, I appreciate the burger but I've got to get home. I'll get the next one, promise." _If there even is a next one._

He frowns dramatically. "Just answer one question of mine and I'll let the burger slide, free of charge." I gulp down the lump in my throat and he takes my pause as a 'yes'. "Does Blair know what you and Serena got up to on the night before the wedding?"

Ice replaces my blood and everything suddenly feels incredibly cold. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, Angel, I think you do." He lightly brushes my throat with a finger, smirking wickedly.

"Get out of my way Chuck. I'm done with this conversation."

"Ah, but you see, I'm not."

Having enough, I smack his hand away roughly. "I don't give a _shit_. I'll see you at school. Thanks for the burger." I was anything but thankful as I made a swift beeline to the exit. I don't want to admit it but I was scared shitless. Did Chuck know what he was talking about, or was he taking a wild guess in hopes of getting under my skin? Either way it had worked.

Well done Chuck Bass, you are officially on my 'Be Nice Too and Watch Out For' list.

**Spotted: Princess E fleeing The Palace as her not-so Prince Charming sits on his new information. We all know that C has had a thing for E's recklessness in the past, but now? Now, her secrets are the things that's making this game even more exciting for him. **

**What we're all asking, and what E is about to have nightmares over, is what C will ask for in return for his silence? And I don't think it will be a friendly hug.**

**Good luck on making him forget this one, E.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl**


	4. How Do You Like Them Apples?

**AN: shout out to girl-at-home13- love ya. Any suggestions, criticisms or praise please review. Was in a bit of a rush to complete so forgive me if there are any errors.**

**Disclaimer: I'm disclaiming!**

**OUTFITS ON MY PINTEREST: Manhattanapple**

**SONG FOR CHAPTER: Sweet Nothings - Florence Welch and Calvin Harris.**

* * *

With the rest of the week having flown by as all the girls that could've made my week a long one were preoccupied with the upcoming party, I was free to just keep my head down and concetrate on upping my grades. With gaggles of Constance students buzzing with excitement for the first social event of the school year, it seemed as if I was the only one who wasn't gushing over every passing comment that was to do with Kiss on the Lips.

By the time Saturday evening had rolled up, I was still immersed in a book we had been assigned to read for English whilst every other girl was busy getting hair and make-up done. When Blair had texted her departure, I finally decided to get ready.

My look was casual: a simple, neat up-do and enough make up to look like I wasn't wearing any make up and I was practically done. I had minutes to spare until the limo racked up outside my building. Slipping on a pair of black heels, I make my departure towards the stretch.

Chuck and I haven't so much as crossed paths since Monday thanks to my handy work in actively avoiding him, however not without his lack of trying. On Wednesday I couldn't even sit at my usual lunch spot in the courtyard because he and his stupid entourage of desperate girls had spread themselves on _my_ table- I know it's petty, but I have no patience when it comes to a Bass.

Now, as I slide into the black leather seats of a limo belonging to the same guy whom I wouldn't want to be in any confined space with, I start to question why on earth I didn't just take a cab.

"Evie!" shouts Nate, who I have yet to properly speak to since I got back- I've been guiltily avoiding him too.

"Hey Nate, it's great to see you." I say as I try not to burn to death under the heat of Chucks scrutinizing eyes.

The limo begins to glide off and as soon as we hit a red light and our first bit of traffic, Blair orders the driver to play some music and Chuck breaks out a bottle of champagne.

I decline the glass that he offers me which sends a few looks my way: they're probably all thinking the same thing, 'When does Evie Elma ever refuse a drink'. Despite the next few attempts at making me have a drink with them all, I stay at the side-line's watching, amused, and they clink glasses and laugh and spill champagne on each other. It's all well and good, until Chuck sparks up a joint.

The pungent smell of weed hits me as soon as he takes it out of his pocket and it makes me want to vomit. It's not that I'm allergic or anything but I just don't trust the stuff since someone spiced it with something else that had an entirely different effect than what weed should've done. So much so that I woke up in the morning, not knowing where I was, with short term memory loss. Ever since then, I have never touched the stuff. I scoot to the opposite side of the limo, staying close to the open window. When Kati offers me a drag, putting the filter right in front, I can feel myself pale: I shake my head.

Blair notices my discomfort when I begin to rub my belly in hopes of soothing the nausea. Grabbing Chuck's scarf from the floor, she wraps it around my neck. I look at her, confused.

"Why are you giving me this?" I ask with an arched eyebrow. She sighs as if the answer is the most obvious thing in the world.

"Hold it in front of your nose, silly."

After hesitating (thinking that if I put that scarf anywhere near my mouth I might develop herpes) I press it against my nose. The musky smell of aftershave and the clean odour of deodorant create a sickly sweet scent that I gladly breathe in as it replaces the scent of the smoke. Chuck notices his favourite accessory around my neck and smirks (he probably thinks this is some sort of foreplay- fiddling with his scarf). Sending a glare back, I bury my face into the soft fabric. I will never admit this to any breathing person, but the smell of Chuck's scarf was actually incredibly pleasant. If only I could like him as much as I liked his scent.

I keep it on until we arrive at the venue, and when I politely offer it back (standing at least half a meter away as though distance would keep him from exploiting everything I had worked so hard to keep a secret) Chuck wraps it back around my neck, smirking at the bemused and unimpressed look on my face.

"Why?" I ask simply as we sand on the curb, waiting for the rest of our group to get out.

"I like knowing that you're wearing something of mine." _HAHA! No._

"Very funny Chuck." Kati and Is begin to usher me into the party, and thankfully away from a certain Spawn-of-Satan. "I'm only wearing it because it goes with my outfit." I state simply, hating that I was just covering up for the fact that I just really loved smelling the scarf.

Walking into the dance floor, I had to admit that the place looked great. Everything had a purple and gold tinge to it and the ceiling has these beautiful chandeliers cascading down towards the dancers who, in themselves, contributed to eh beauty of the party.

I spot Jenny's blonde head chattering away near the bar, and begin to expertly manoeuvre myself through the throngs of dancers to her. Her own dress is exactly like the one she tried on in the store but black.

Smiling, knowing that she had listened to what I'd said, I throw an arm around her shoulders, "Nice dress, Jenny! I thought you said they didn't have it black?"

"Oh, hi Evie!" Her cute little smile was plastered onto her face, I could tell she was having a great time. "I actually made this…"

"No way!" I exclaim, becoming excited over a dress didn't normally happen but this was a definite exception. "Jenny it's beautiful, you're so talented."

"Thanks."

Conversation with Jenny flows easily once she realises that you're not going to kill her if she disagrees with you. We were laughing and chatting and I was coming to really like this girl. With someone who wasn't a part of _that_ crowd (or the crowd that I am in by birth right), the party was not that bad.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," _Spoke too soon. _Chuck swaggers in between me and Jenny, and I groan aloud as I notice the 'nice boy' act that he puts on so well, "Hi, I'm Chuck." Even the way he says his _name _is gentlemanly. He reaches out to shake Jenny's hand, who keeps shooting happy looks at me as if to say '_Chuck Bass _is _talking _to me.'

"I know. Um, I mean…" she laughs nervously and I want to scream at her for playing into his palm. "Hi, I'm- I'm Jenny."

"It's, uh, it's nice to meet you." I strain my neck to look over his shoulder and see that he's still holding and playing with her hand- it makes me want to retch.

"You too."

"Thank you." My blood boils at the thought of Chuck planning to hurt Jenny, which wasn't hard to see from the devious smile on his stupid face.

"Chuck, can I speak to you for a moment?" Smiling, I grab his arm and spin him to face me instead of Jenny, "_Please?_"

Without waiting for a reply, I drag him over to an empty corner. His facial expression shows how much he is enjoying the angry one on mine.

"What is it, Angel? You look absolutely exquisite tonight but you're kind of being a cock-block."

I smack his arm, glare at him, than smack it a couple more times. I want him to be in pain but the Bass-tard just laughs.

"Don't you _dare_ do what you're doing with Jenny, she doesn't want to do anything that you were going to do so stop doing what you're doing!" Chuck infuriates me further my laughing harder.

"Why? So you can do it with me instead." I scoff nonchalantly.

"No! Ew, never."

We stare at each other for, what seems like, a long time, both sizing up the other.

"I'll tell you what, I'm in a good mood so I'll make you deal." Even the thought of making any kind of deal with Chuck Bass makes me feel slimy but Jenny is my new friend and I want to keep it that way.

"…Go on." Chuck chuckles, stepping closer so that the only thing keeping us from touching is his scarf that's still around my neck.

"I'll leave your precious Jenny alone…" he leans in to whisper in my ear. If I thought his scarf smelt nice, then his neck was like heaven. _What? Bad Evie, naughty, bad, stupid thoughts! Pull yourself together._ "If you give me one, little kiss." Not a millisecond went by after his proposition until I shoved him away, wanting to laugh and retch at the same time.

"You're crazy! I'm not kissing you for anything."

"How about I sweeten the pot: I won't ruin Jenny's new reputation _and _I'll keep you're secret between us friends." Keep my secret? I've been having nightmares about him blabbing his mouth and telling whatever he knows to Gossip Girl. If he kept his word, and that's one thing that you can count on with a Bass man, then the weight on my shoulders would be lifted. And it was really starting to wear me down.

"I can't believe I'm actually considering this."

"No girl can resist Chuck Bass."

"You're a pig."

"And isn't your favourite food bacon?"

I step closer, quieting my voice as though I was about to do something criminal- which I suppose I am. "You promise you won't even _look_ at Jenny?"

"Is that jealously I hear? For you Angel, _anything_… you have my word." Satisfied, I close the distance before I could back out. However, I'm not so easily won. My pursed, lip-glossed lips smack onto his cheek and for effect, I make a 'mwah' sound on the release. As I back off to look at his expression, I grin when I find that he's positively seething.

"What was that?" He demands. "This is the _Kiss _on the _Lips _party, not the Kiss Like We're in Third Grade party."

"It's not my fault you didn't specify _where_ you wanted me to kiss you but I still committed the atrocious act of putting my mouth anywhere near yours, so that means that it's your turn to keep your end of the deal." Knowing I'd won makes me feel a million bucks.

"You don't want to play this game with me, Evie Elma." I sigh dramatically, taking off his scarf and wrapping it back around his neck, as if I was the fussy mother and he was the kid that wanted to play in the snow.

"I like my odds," Feeling on top of the world, I lean into his ear. And to infuriate him further, I whisper huskily, "_Chuck Bass_."

**It looks like a new game is brewing on the Upper East Side and I for one want front row tickets. Be careful, E, this isn't tennis so your backhand might not be enough, and we all know that there is nothing more dangerous than a Chuck Bass on a mission.**

**Let's hope that this game isn't a fight to the death.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl.**


	5. Comparing Apples and Oranges

**AN: girl-at-home13 you make me want to carry on writing this fic. You're amazing and brilliant!**

**Disclaimer: I'm disclaiming!**

**EPISODE STILLS AND OUTFITS SEARCH ME UP ON PINTEREST AND CLICK EPISODE 2 BOARD:**** manhattanapple**

**SONG FOR CHAPTER:**** Pet Mouse - A Great Big Pile of Leaves**

**Praise, ideas of criticisms please review, review, review! **

* * *

Sunday morning was perfect in a stereotypical way: Waking up to the delightful chime of my coffee brewer finishing the work that God put it on this earth to do was magical. Wrapping my dressing gown around me and slipping on a pair of snug slippers, I practically skip to the kitchenette and gleefully pour myself a generous amount of the caffeine.

Last night had been surprisingly fun after I had ditched poor, old Chuck. I introduced Jenny to some of the nicer Upper East Siders to make up for taking the Bass away from her. When I became content with her progress on the social radar, I slinked off to find Blair, who was pouting. However, she never told me what was wrong, instead she chose to pretend like she'd never been upset: Dancing with me and laughing at the moves I throw out-which were positively embarrassing but I was too high on life to give two ounces of a shit.

Now, chilling with a mug in my hands and nothing else to do but relax, I wouldn't be surprised if I was named the living embodiment of the word 'Lethargic'.

Taking my sweet time to shower and get ready, I didn't even care about the time that the clock read- I had nowhere to be.

But then, out of the blue, Blair decides to text- and knowing Blair, the message won't be an invitation to catch up. A Waldorf never does anything without an agenda.

_**Be thankful of my natural talents for I have scored you an invitation to the Bass Brunch. Be at the palace for 11, thank you! –B**_

_**And what will you do if I don't? –E**_

_**You don't want to know, but it will be something sticky. –B**_

Groaning, I check the clock for the first time today (which seems like bitter defeat). 10:40. _Thanks for the warning, B._

Quickly slipping off my dressing gown, I'm thankful that I've done my hair and make-up as I reach for a Jean, fitted, buttoned up dress and my white converses. Changing at the speed of light, I proceed to pack my patchwork messenger bag (which has kind of become my signature accessory) with keys, my phone, my purse and my leather jacket.

10:45.

I sprint out of the loft, not even bothering to lock up the place. As I turn the corner and into the stair way at least 30 mph I hit what feels like a brick wall. On collision I bounce backwards and prepare for my fall but it never comes. In a weird, cliché, every teen movie in history kind-of-way, rough hands have stopped me from face planting. Opening my tightly shut eyes, a stocky, blonde man-child stands before me. Noticing how attractive he is, I rush to stand upright, in the process completely forgetting that I need to be somewhere.

"Oh crap!" I exclaim, partly because I bumped into someone and partly because I've never seen anyone so pretty. "I'm sorry, I didn't see where I was going."

The pretty stranger smiles, showing large, white teeth. His teeth are so pretty. "No, it was my fault, I should've watched where I was going." He holds out his hand, "I'm Max."

I grasp it eagerly. "Evie."

Max falters, "Evie Elma from 2B?" I worry that he knows my name and where I live… can this incredibly pretty boy be my stalker? And if so, is that really a bad thing?

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Max reaches around to the back pocket of his ripped jeans, and brings it back with envelopes.

"I've got your mail, was coming down here to give it to you. Lucky I caught you."

Thankful that he isn't a freak, I send a prayer up to heaven, thanking me for this opportunity.

"Thanks, but I don't think I've seen you around. Do you live here?" I ask taking the envelopes, being sure to brush his hand in he process.

"Just moved in upstairs, 3B."

"Well, welcome to the building I suppose." I hope he doesn't notice how giddy I am over the prospect of my mail being wrongly delivered to his door in the future.

"Thanks…" Max's pretty lips pulls up into a smirk as a thoughtful expression comes over his face. "I was, uh, actually planning on having a small loft-warming on Friday so-"

"-Be aware of the noise? Got it, I'll make myself sparse." He chuckles and the noise is throaty and all-masculine.

"Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to come: You seem cool." _I'm cool!_ "It will just be a couple of friends and my band mates."

"You're in a band." It wasn't a question but more like a statement of disbelief. This all just seemed too good to be true.

"Small time. Trying to make it."

"Well, I'll make sure I come check it out."

"You should."

There is a time in every girl's life where she question how real the world around her actually is. This is that time. This morning had been so perfect that I expect Chuck to jump out from behind a corner and shout, "You just got Punk'd!" announcing that he'd hired pretty Max as part of his game.

Speaking of Chuck.

"_Shit._" 11:05. "I'm really sorry, I've got to go, it was nice meeting you." I skip around him and start descending the staircase, leaving the pretty, flannel and ripped jeans wearing, boy to look back at me.

"It was nice meeting you too!" He calls as I start on the next flight of stairs. As I hit the sidewalk at a run, I'm thankful that the first taxi I hail picks me up. I slide in and tell him the address.

As I sit and wait for the lights to change, a feeling of apprehension washes over me. This morning could not have gone any better, and I've read enough Young Adult novels to know that this is when shit hits the fan. As if by magic, my phone goes off.

**It looks like the table's all set at The Palace. As soon as the guests arrive, we can start dishing. And it looks like Blair and Chuck have a large appetite- for scheming that is.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl**

**{}**

There is no doubt that Bart Bass knows how to throw an impressive shindig. The hall was decorated with whites and greys, the only color (apart from the guests' attire) being the heaps of perfectly prepared food. Fruits and vegetables and carvery and salads adorned a long table, which already had a long line of guests waiting for their turn at the pickings.

The room was abuzz with hearty conversation, some pleasure and some business, and on a table near the back of the room seated Blair, Nate, Chuck, Kati and Is. An empty chair was waiting.

Picking up a glass of champagne from a nearly-naked-living-statue, I head for the table. Taking my seat between Kati and Is, I smile in greeting, my eyes landing on Chuck for longer that they had the others: I was checking to see if I could find any evidence that he was behind my perfect, novel-worthy morning- the thought was ridiculous but with Chuck Bass you can never be too careful.

"Morning, Evie. Don't you look particularly chipper." Chuck says, leaning back in his chair with a scotch in his hand. Was it me being overly paranoid or did he know something?

"I suppose I had an interesting morning." I shoot a look at Blair, signaling that we needed to talk.

"I know that look! You met a guy, didn't you?" Blair squeals in excitement. "Tell me everything!"_ Or we could just talk now_.

"Well, it was nothing absolutely noteworthy. I just bumped into a pretty guy who just moved into my building."

"Oh no." Kati gasps theatrically.

"What is it?" Asks Nate, laughing at her dramatics.

"Whenever Evie describes someone as 'pretty' it means that she sleeps with them within the month."

"It's he definition of classy." Blair doesn't mean to sound bitchy but she has high standards when it comes to sex and has never liked the way Serena and I didn't care about doing the deed with someone special. Chuck chokes on his scotch, coughing and gasping as he tries to catch his breath.

"That is not true!" I shout at the same time that Chuck asks eagerly, "What does she say about me?"

The table bursts out laughing and I can't help but join in when I throw my napkin at Chuck playfully and a jokey pout forms on his lips.

Unfortunately, in NYC, good things don't tend to stick. The laughter abruptly stops when Blair growls.

"You've got to be kidding." I turn to identify the object of Blair's glare to find Serena and some guy standing at the entry looking as awkward and out of place as an accountant in an art class.

"This should be fun." Chuck smiles as he watches the pair. I shoot him a 'don't start' look and receive a wink in return. "Come walk with me." It wasn't a question, I could tell he had something to say, so I get up and begin to follow him around the room.

"What is it Chuck?" He wraps an arm around my waist loosely, and I let him- and that's only because I want him to tell me why B reacted the way she did to S and _not_ because it made me all tingly inside.

"I think there is something you should know." He whispers in my ear. I begin to worry, when _Chuck_ has to tell me something in private, I know it's going to come as a shock.

"Out with it then." Chuck pulls me behind a marble column and away from prying eyes.

"At the Sheppard wedding," something in my throat catches and for a split second I thought I was going to puke- I _never _want that day mentioned again. "Nate and Serena may have got busy on an empty bar." The relief that washes over me is quickly replaced by a mix of anger and pity.

"What?! Does Blair know?"

"Nate told her before Kiss on the Lips but this is my favorite bit," He takes another swig of scotch to build the suspense. "Nate is in love with Serena."

"_No!_" I gasp. _How can that prick lead Blair on like this?_ "We have to do something."

"Already taken care of, Angel." One of my eyebrows raise in suspicion, "I gave a key for my suite to Nate, telling him to use it to settle things with Serena, I _also_ gave a key to Blair, telling _her_ to use it to bed Nate once and for all."

"That's…" I want to shout at him for doing something so manipulative yet nothing but the weird sense of regard for Chuck's brilliant scheming comes to mind, "Actually, that's pretty clever, Chuck."

He smiles deviously, "Did I just hear you say 'pretty' and 'Chuck' in the same sentence? Are you sure _you _don't want a key to my room?"

"Don't ruin this moment Bass." I reply with a condescending lilt.

"So you admit we're having a moment. I think I'm warming on you, Evie." A genuine laugh escapes my lips and I'm surprised that it's not sarcastic. Are we flirting, right now? His arm snakes around my waist again and he leans in.

"When did you think it was okay to touch me so much, Bass?" I whisper, worried that someone might spot us and get the wrong idea: there is definitely nothing, _nothing_, going on between us. Right?

"Since you walked in looking like _that._" He whispers back, pushing my back against the column. Chuck plays with the top button of my dress as he uses his other hand to stroke my waist. I could feel myself being lulled into a false sense of security. Heat was spreading to the places where Chuck's hands wandered and my mind went foggy. The scent of scotch, deodorant and aftershave washes over me and I feel myself relax. For some unholy reason, this (whatever the fuck 'this' is) felt right. All thoughts of pretty band members, brunch and Blair and Serena's imminent show down left my mind and all that was left were Chuck's… _pretty_ eyes. That is until his crotch vibrates.

"Chuck," I whisper, coming out of my little head fuck that I instantly decide never to dwell on again, "Please tell me that's your phone."

He sighs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his expensive mobile. As he reads the screen a grin progressively makes its way onto his lips.

"Showtime." He says simply, giving me the phone to read and pulling me by my arm back towards the party.

I look down and read the e-blast:

**Spotted: N and B hot and heavy in the halls of The Palace Hotel, only to find S already waiting. Sparks were flying for sure but will it be a 3-way or D-Day? Stay tuned.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl.**

As we come back to the center of the room, we find Nate and Serena running through the doors, looking heated in conversation. I scan around for Blair and find her talking to the guy that came in with Serena.

"Who _is_ that? I've seen him around with Serena."

"Dan Humphrey. Serena's new plaything, he's not that shiny though."

"Jenny's brother?"

"Who's Jenny?" I scoff but I can't be all that surprised that Chuck forgot the person he was interested in for all of 30 seconds.

"Doesn't matter." We walk up to them just as Nate and Serena does.

"Serena, there you are." Dan says, looking relieved to find someone that he's relatively comfortable with, but by the expression on Blair's face, she's looking to change that. "Uh, where were you?"

"She was waiting in a hotel room for my boyfriend." Answers Blair sweetly before Serena can get a lie in.

"To talk." Serena assures him.

"About why we weren't talking." Interjects Nate, looking a Blair for understanding and receiving nothing.

"Oh please, that doesn't sound any smarter the second time." Blair shakes her head at him, looking dejected.

"Why weren't you talking?" Dan asks, looking utterly confused at the whole situation. "Does this have anything to do with why you were waiting for Serena this morning?"

"-You were what?" Blair looks like shes about ready to cry so I reach over and grab her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"And here I thought you were waiting for me." Enter Chuck, looking almost proud of Nate- I glare at him, signaling for him to keep his mouth shut.

"What is going on here?" Dan looks around at all of us, desperately looking for some answers.

"We were just getting to that." Replies Blair, smiling again and looking positively over the moon.

Serena reaches for her but Blair shakes her head, "Blair, please, don't do this." Hearing Serena beg is new, ?ut all my sympathy for her has been lost, no matter what had happened between us.

"Sorry? Oh, do you wanna tell him?"

"I'll tell him." I say, ready to stand up for Blair. I may have been gone for a while but now I'm back and I'm not going anywhere.

"You know?" Asks Blair and Nate, shocked.

"Chuck told me." I reply simply, shrugging my shoulders as I don't think it mattered.

"I know everything." Adds Chuck, hands in his pockets looking relaxed as anything.

"And apparently I know nothing." _Back to Dan- he's so whiny._

"Look, Dan, it- it was a long time ago, and I regret it." Serena steps towards him, trying to block out the rest of us as she attempts to salvage the situation. _Not if we can help it._

"Look, Serena," Chuck begins, sounding almost sympathetic, "stop trying to pretend you're a good girl. So you slept with your best friend's boyfriend. I kind of admire you for it."

Silence falls over out little circle of drama as Dan swallows down the news.

"Is that true?" He looks to Serena, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from her.

"Well," Cuts in a scorned Blair, "Then she ran away and lied about it. I just thought you should know before you fall head over heels for your perfect girl and her perfect world and then get left all alone with no one but your cabbage patch kid."

"Cabbage patch?" I ask, stifling a laugh.

"Did you talk to my sister?"

"Ah yes, little Jenny…" I flip my head to Chuck: I thought he didn't remember her. "I do believe we have some unfinished business." He was baiting Dan, or at least I _hoped _there was no truth behind what he was saying (purely because I like Jenny and no other reason but that).

Dan takes a menacing step towards him, "You stay away from her."

"Poor Daniel. So little time, so many sluts to defend."

"Hey!" I shout, ready to smack Chuck, but Dan beats me to it, pushing Bass into a waiter that is sent flying to the floor. The raucous brings the attention of every single person in the room to Dan. And that's where Chuck and Blair wanted them to be all along.

"It's fine. It's fine. Everyone can stop looking." Dan sighs deeply, looking crushed, heartbroken and embarrassed at the same time. "He's a jerk…" Eyes swing to Chuck who is looking thoroughly pleased with himself, "But it's- it's my fault and I'm leaving." He starts to leave but Serena grabs his arm, stopping him.

"I'll go with you."

"Actually, I'd prefer if you didn't."

Nate turns on Blair whilst Serena looks longingly at the departure of Mr. Humphrey. "I hope you're happy."

"Not even close." The spite in Blair's voice made _me_ want to hide and I'm not the one she's angry with. She runs off, followed by Nate. Leaving me and Chuck alone, he comes over and leans over my shoulder as I stare at Blair's fleeting form, worried for my friend.

"Look's like it's just you and me." I angrily look at him, still mad at what he said about Jenny. "I guess my room's available if you want to tell me how pretty I am."

"I'd rather slam my tongue into a car door." I reply, elbowing him in the stomach and strutting off. I can't believe I thought his eyes were pretty. There's nothing to him but cold, manipulative, childish behavior and I'll never see him as any different. No matter how good he smells.

**Some might call this a "Fustercluck," but on the Upper East Side, we call it a Sunday Afternoon. **

**Well, Serena's mystery man is a mystery no longer. His name is… oh, who cares? Now that he and S are over, so are his 15 minutes. But his siser Jenny was spotter with a new dress… gifted from Blair herself. Everyone knows an Eleanor original is the uniform of B's private army. But will J be a loyal soldier, will she side with S' rebel forces, who left today's brunch with no friends and no boyfriend, or completely give up on the crown like our reformed E? And speaking of Evie, we heard that she got a close up and personal with a marble column, or as he prefers to be called, Chuck. You've been warned, E. Now all the mistakes are on you.**

**You know you love me.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl**


	6. Apple For the Teacher

**AN: Probably going to be my last update for a few days but we shall see.**

**Disclaimer: I'm disclaiming!**

**OUTFITS STILLS AND OC'S ON MY**** PINTEREST:**

**Criticisms, complaints, a freaking 'Hey' would suffice as a review so please, please, please review for me. :3**

* * *

**There's plenty of upside to being the spawn of the fabulously wealthy. But the downside? Supper successful parents expect nothing less from their offspring. And when it comes to college that means the Ivies. It's more than just getting into college, it's setting a course for the rest of your life. And for those few who aren't legacies, the pressures are no less. When parents have sacrificed for their children's futures, what kid would wanna let them down?**

**Good luck, bitches. I'll see you on the other side.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl**

"Yes, mom, I've got tabs on the Princeton rep. I've read their book, followed their blog. I've got it covered." My mobile was wedged between my ear and my shoulder as I desperately try to convince my mother that I've got everything under control, and that I definitely don't need her to fly over from Moscow. "I'm legally an adult now, I can take care of myself." Ironically, whilst saying those words I'm struggling to perform the simple act of pulling on socks.

"Yes, I know dear! But your father and I are just looking out for you, you know how desperate he is for you to get into Princeton." I could hear my uptight father grumble over the speaker. He doesn't speak- ever- he only makes sounds to put his point across. At my parent's wedding, he didn't say 'I do', he just grunted in agreement.

"Look, mom," I sigh loudly, running a hand through my hair in hopes of taming its messiness. I woke up late again and I didn't want to miss this morning's assembly, "about college, I need to speak to you. But right now, I'm late and I've really got to go." Dropping to my knees, I reach under my bed, feeling around for my black Dr. Martens.

"I'll call you later, sweetheart." Without a goodbye, or an 'I love you', my mother hangs up. We'd never really been a close knit family, which explains the fact that we're living on opposite sides of the map and I'm emancipated, but sometimes I wish that my mum would just fly over unexpectedly and tell me she's proud. Shoving my phone into my skirt pocket, I find the shoes and slip them on. Tying my hair into a messy bun, I sling my bag over my shoulder and run out of the door, all whilst trying to put on my leather jacket that chooses_ this _morning to decided not co-operate with me.

Thankfully, I still manage to make the bus and get to school on time. I'm out of breath by the time I get through the black iron gate of Constance Billard, receiving a curious look from Chuck and Nate who are chatting not five meters away.

"Morning guys!" I exclaim, walking over to them with, what I'm sure is, a red face.

"Late start?" Asks Nate, amused by my appearance.

"That and an interesting call from Mrs. Elma herself."

"Why'd your mom call?" Chuck looks at me curiously, it's no secret that my parents and I have a strictly professional relationship so any out of the blue calls are un-heard of with the Elmas.

"Why do you think? Ivies, stupid. They're counting on me to get into Princeton and study law."

"And what do you want to study?"

"English." There was no hesitation in my answer, I loved English and reading and writing. Knowing undoubtedly that this is what I want to do makes me even more upset- because I know I can never do it. "But my parents will never hear of me wasting my time on something so time-wasting."

"See _this_ is what I'm talking about, Chuck!" Nate looks at Chuck with a desperate expression, "Our parents are planning our lives for us and it's not right! Why can't you see that?" Chuck has no time to answer as the bell shrieks and students start heading towards the assembly hall.

As we walking into the church-like assembly hall, we are welcomed by the girls' choir singing 'Glamorous' as an accapella. Despite my desperate need to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation I give Jenny, whose part of the singing squad, an encouraging thumbs up. By the time they've finished the song, all of us students are seated and already bored of this morning procession, I myself am starting to wonder if rushing to school this morning was worth it.

The heads of both schools replace the choir and we all start to take notice- there is not one person in this room that doesn't want a spot at an Ivy League school, no matter what they _actually _want.

"Thank you, ladies. And good morning, students." I look around for a particular blonde, having noticed her absence when coming in the hall, but Serena is nowhere to be found. "I ask all of you to show a little sympathy for our junior class. They are almost trough Ivy Week."

I snort and whisper into Blair's ear, "We don't need sympathy to get into college, just a building in our name." She stifles a giggle behind her hand but otherwise remains composed.

"As is our long-standing tradition," begins the headmaster of our brother school, "the Constance Billard girls will be in charge of Friday night's mixer, and the St. Jude's boys will provide the ushers for the visiting representatives." I know that last bit has piqued quite a few of the boys' interests, including our very own Dan Humphrey.

"For those who dream of attending an Ivy League school, this mixer is the most important event of your life." A bit melodramatic but she seems to insight the fear that she wishes for into the girls.

"But no pressure." Both heads laugh and if there was a time to cry out of the irony of it all, this would certainly be it.

I tune out for the rest of their little talks and instead look around the room for something exciting to look at. What's not quite exciting but also quite surprising is the site of Nate and Chuck ghosting out of the assembly hall. I mean, it's not unnatural for the pair to do a little pot before school, but their interviews are today and despite all the rough patches, they're still my friends.

Making a rash decision that I'll most likely regret, I crouch behind my pillar and crawl out too. It doesn't take a genius to know that they're behind the bleachers just off campus. Just as expected, they're lighting up a joint and passing it back and forth between them.

Not caring about the smell, I walk up to them, rip the roll-up from between Chuck's lips and throw it on the floor.

"Really, guys? On interview day?" Chuck just smirks as he bends down and retrieves the zoot, brushing the dirt off and relighting it. Giving up on him, I turn on Nate, "Archibald, why are you risking this, you know your parents will kill you if you don't get the usher position."

"I don't _care_, Evie! I just want to do what I want."

"And is ruining your chances of getting into the big league what you want?"

"Evie, chill," Chuck soothes, coming up behind me and rubbing my arms as he takes a hit, "It's all good, our parents have ways." I shrug his warm hands off, not liking how quickly my anger disperses when he does that.

"Wouldn't you like to do something for yourself for once, Chuck?"

"Is that concern I hear? Oh, Angel, I didn't know you cared so much."

"Can you just be serous for one second?"

"Why be serious when you can be high?" He waggles the joint at me, blowing smoke into my face. The smell instantly makes me want to retch.

"You don't get it do you?" I say, waving the air in front of my face to get rid of the smoke, "There are people who work ten times harder than you do and yet they'll still end up with less. Don't you see the issue with that?"

"And this is coming from, Evie? The same Evie that bought her own nerd to do her homework for an entire semester?"

"What I _used_ to do was childish… but I've grown up. Maybe you should too."

**Spotted: E telling it like it is and leaving C to yet again watch his childhood sweetheart walk away from him… old habits die hard don't they, E? Especially the habit of putting your nose where it doesn't belong. But don't go smelling anything too rotten, you might just end up finding something you wish you hadn't.**

**You know I'm right.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl.**

**{}**

I _hated_ field hockey. Scratch that. I hated competitive sports in general. But today it was just taking the biscuit. You give a bitchy, rich girl an object of murder and there will be hell to pay. Throw in a vengeful Blair Waldorf and a tired Serena van der Woodsen and you've got yourself a massacre.

As girls in short skirts and polo's run around with tanned legs, chasing a ball for no purpose but to outshine the others, it's no wonder that it becomes another PE lesson where I have an excuse to sit and watch- I mean, I'm turning my life around but I can only go so far.

Sitting, on the grass, sunshades on and enjoying the brief spell of good weather, I notice Blair shooting looks towards her blonde best friend. I don't think much of it until they collide and fight for possession of the ball, and then, all of a sudden, Serena goes down and the whistle blows. Blair _hit_ her. I'm shocked and I sit upright, worried about the events that are coming next. Two minutes later, Blair violently shoves Serena, earning herself a green card.

I get why Blair's mad, but resorting to violence, that's a new low, even for her.

Even worse, the next tackle send Serena flying.

"Blair! I'm running out of colours here!" Shouts the coach. I get up and make my way closer to the pitch.

"Enough, okay?" Pleads Serena. I'm starting to feel bad for her. But only just.

"It's enough when I say it's enough." Replies Blair menacingly. The whistle blows again and I'm biting my nails in anticipation as Blair seizes the ball and Serena head's straight for her. They collide viciously, eliciting a scream from Blair as they both plummet to the ground.

I run over to them, trying to pull Serena off of Blair's shrieking form.

"Guys!" I shout over the audience. "What the fuck are you doing, get off of each other!"

"Get off me!" Cries B, screaming like a banshee.

"Is that enough for you yet?!" Serena lets go, walking off flustered. Blair rushes to compose herself.

"So you idiots have actually come to physical blows? What's wrong with you?" I exclaim. I've already had to deal with Nate and Chuck being stupid idiots, I don't want to deal with this too. "Can't you just give up with this shit already?"

They stare each other down for a few seconds, both breathing heavily from their squabble. Suddenly, a twisted smile appears on Blair's face and she grabs her thigh, screaming in pain.

"Ow! My leg!" She cries, sobbing as though it was really in pain. I just stare at her, disappointed at both of them.

"Serena, you're out of here." Says the coach, motioning for Is and Kati to help Blair of the pitch.

"I hope it's broken." Serena murmurs before walking off in a huff.

I look over at Blair's crying form before walking off myself. Monday was just not my day.

**Hey, Upper East Siders.**

**We hear that World War III just broke out, and it's wearing knee socks. Choose your side or run and hide. We have a feeling this ones to the death.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl.**

**{}**

The elevator doors of the Waldorf apartment opened and I step angrily into the hallway. I'd come here as soon as school finished, not wanting to wait to get out what I needed to say. I could hear Is and Kati fussing over Blair's leg in the living room. Without greeting them, I rudely dismiss both of them. Seeing the anger that's written on my face they do as they're told. For the first time in a long time, I feel like the old me.

Relaxed on a lounger, un-bruised legs propped up, Blair smiles innocently at me. However, I'm anything but fooled.

"What the Hell were you thinking?" I shout, dumping my bag on the floor, pushing her legs of the couch and taking their place. She gives me a tight smile, not liking being told off.

"She deserved everything she got."

"Maybe, but you didn't have to stoop to her level, B." Her face twists with rage.

"Oh?! And you've never gotten into a fight at school?!" She cries, her eyes glazing over with tears. "Why do _I _have to be the one that rolls over and takes it? You never did! People don't expect _her_ too! It's unfair, and I'm sick of it!" Sympathy and understanding washes over me.

"B, I get it and I'm sorry for having a go at you but what I used to do wasn't good. Let Serena be the only bad guy here. If you want to get back at her, do it the Blair Waldorf way, not the Evie Elma way."

Her signature, mischievous smile plays on her lips. "I plan to." As if on cue, her phone rings. On the first chime she picks it up, "Finally."

Whoever is on the other line said something to make Blair cringe in her seat, "You're heinous." And then she smiles, "You know me well."

Blair gives me a please look, then puts the other caller on speaker. The ID reads 'Chuck,' _why am I not surprised?_

"Serena came home for a reason." States Blair, her attitude quickly going from playful and excited to serious and scheming.

"One can only guess." Chuck says through the phone.

"I'm done guessing." The finality in Blair's voice made me worried for Serena, she was in for war. "I want answers, and no one likes to be on the ground floor of a scandal like Chuck Bass."

"I am a bitch when I wanna be." Blair shots me look when I laugh, immediately shutting me up. "Who's that?"

"Just Evie."

"Ah, Angel!" I sigh, at the public use of that stupid, embarrassing nickname, "Are we over our petty squabble yet, can we just skip ahead to the crazy make up sex?"

"Wow, Chuck. At least buy me dinner first." I reply sarcastically, earning myself a chuckle from the other end.

"You guys are disgusting." Says B, her lip curling in revulsion, "Anyway, opportunity to cause some trouble, uncover a secret?"

"Take 'yes' for an answer."

After hanging up, Blair turns to me, looking over the moon. "Now we wait."

{}

The next morning, Blair calls me over before school, luckily I was up early talking with my parents because of the time difference. Greeting me at Waldorf place was Chuck Bass, smiling as he sees me walk into Blair's bedroom.

"So I take it you found something then?" I ask flopping myself onto the bed, trying my hardest to not nap.

"Did you ever doubt me?" Chuck asks playfully coming to sit next to me.

"Do you really want me to answer that-?"

"-Guys! Can you please stop the flirting for just a second, this is important." Throwing her a disbelieving look, I flop my head down on the pillows and turn towards the computer. Chuck gets up and joins Blair by the monitor.

"Is that Serena?" I ask, seeing the blonde mane and assuming the obvious.

"Yep, at the Ostroff centre." Blair says the words as if she found the purchase history on her mother's credit card around Christmas.

"Elaborate for me please?"

"It's a facility for the disturbed or addicted." Answers Chuck, coming back to sit with me on the bed.

"Then you must have your own wing." I say with a smirk. Chuck laughs heartily, making me smile. Over the last couple of weeks Chuck has grown on me, especially since he's never mentioned _the _secret.

"Your wit never fails to impress me, E." Chuck winks and something flutters inside my stomach.

My smile drops instantly. _Nope, I refuse to believe that I just got _butterflies.

"So, B, what are you going to do now?" I ask, quickly changing the subject and Chuck's attention.

"Well, I was thinking… total social destruction."

"Yep, that sounds more like you." I say, impressed with Blair's trail of thought.

"So how do you ladies want to pay me for my services?" Ask Chuck, waggling his eyebrows between us.

Grabbing one of Blair's duck feather pillows, I toss it at him, hitting him directly in his infuriatingly snarky face.

"No you didn't." He says, catching it before it hits the ground. Our eyes meet for a second before he jumps on the bed, hitting me with the pillow as I lay helpless underneath him.

"No! Mercy!" I squeal, in hysterics as he abandons the pillow and begin his new assault by tickling me. "Please Chuck! I- I hate- being tickled!" Laughing wildly, we roll around on the bed, both trying to best each other.

"Hey!" Shout Blair, clapping her hands as though we're dogs and her our trainer, "Hey! You two! Leaving _now._" We stop our attack, both of us breathing heavily and both in a compromising position. Chuck is leaning over me, on hand propping him up and the other on my waist. Warmth fills me as I look up into his brown eyes.

Pushing a lock of hair out of my face he whispers intimately, "You can repay me another time." Biting my lip, I wonder what he means, and then I find myself wondering what I _want_ him to mean.

"Ugh, you guys are disgusting."

{}

The rooftop mixer was a formal affair, which called for one of my only smart outfits; a blue, high-waisted pencil skirt with a brown belt wrapping around my ribs; and a grey vest-top tucked in with a matching grey cardigan that falls to my thighs.

A soft, acoustic band were playing as Constance and St. Judes students alike were desperately trying to win the hearts of every representative that they could get their manicured hands on.

I'd gotten here a bit late so already, there were no spare representatives to woo. Maybe this was fate, maybe I wasn't meant to go to an Ivy League and this was the world telling me that I should go to NYU and get an English degree.

_Yeah, right._

Noticing Chuck ushering the Princeton rep, I walk over, plastering a polite smile on my face. I cut into the conversation taking the reps free hand in mine.

"Hi there, I'm Evie Elma."

"It's nice to meet you. What can I do for you?" She was pleasant enough.

"Well, my parents are alumni of Princeton and they'd murder me if I didn't introduce myself. You may know them- Alexie and Vera Elma?"

"Ah, yes! So you're _that _daughter…" _What the hell is that supposed to mean? _She gives me a disapproving look and turns back to Chuck, completely ignoring me. Chuck gives me an apologetic smile but I just act like it doesn't bother me. Only it does, and I don't know why because I don't even want to _go _to Princeton. A dangerous thought enters my head and just as I am about to find a knife and stab her with it, Blair saves me.

"May I please have everyone's attention?" Conversation stops as she takes control of the whole room. "Welcome again to the Constance Billard/St. Jude's Ivy Week Mixer. I'm Blair Waldorf, chair of the Community Outreach Committee." She waits for her applause to dissipate, "Every year, our schools choose to support one local institution that we feel benefits our community."

I start adding things up; Dr. Ostroff being here; Community Outreach bullshit; what Blair said about total social destruction… she was going to out Serena to every single university here. This isn't social destruction… Blair's going to destroy Serena's life.

"This year," She continues whilst I try to find Serena within the crowd, "our schools have chosen to honour the Ostroff Center." Everybody claps, oblivious to the scandal that is about to be ousted. I spot Serena with her arms around her brother, and question why _she's _comforting _him_.

Suddenly, it hits me… Serena's not the one with the problem.

I grab Chuck's arm as Blair talks about how the choice is a very personal one. Noticing how worried I am he wastes no time in stepping away from the Princeton bitch.

"What's wrong, Evie?"

"We have to stop Blair." He tilts his head to the side, confused.

"I thought this was what you guys wanted."

"No. Not like this."

He nods, turning towards the stage. I knew he'd stop it, he'd run on the stage naked if he has to: He's Chuck Bass.

Only it's too late.

"Can I please have Serena van der Woodsen join me onstage?" Blair's face is positively gleaming as she takes in the shocked expressions of everyone in attendance.

"I'm sorry." Says Chuck. I shake my head, too upset with Blair for doing something so horrible to appreciate the fact the Chuck Bass was apologizing.

**Spotted at Ivy Week Mixer: S and B's last stand, and only one gets out alive. Better take cover.**

**{}**

After the devastating showdown, I hunt down Blair, finding her with Kati and Is.

"Blair, we need to talk." I pull her into an empty corridor, not waiting for her agreement. "What you just did…" Her smile never falters, she's expecting praise or an award, "What you did was-"

"Blair," The sudden appearance of Eric interrupts my lecture, "Can I talk to you? It'll just take a moment."

Blair gives me a 'Here-we-go-look' as if what she just did was just some rookie prank.

"Serena's not a patient at the Ostroff Centre." He begins, proving my suspicions.

"Eric, you've always been a sweet kid, and I can understand you wanting to-"

"Hear him out, B." I order sternly, cutting her off.

Eric gives me a thankful look and proceeds. "Serena is not a patient. I am."

Blair shakes her head in disbelief, "I've never even seen you take a drink."

"I'm not an alcoholic. I did this." He pulls back his sleeve to reveal the deep scar that he burdened himself with. I shut my eyes tightly, feeling empathetic tears well up. "And today, Serena protected me."

Suddenly, Blair has nothing to say.

"Eric, I… I didn't-"

"See that coming? Yeah. Well, it must be a shock for someone who thinks she knows everything." One last look at Blair's sullen face and Eric walks off to find his family, leaving Blair and I thinking about Serena and Eric and he bigger picture.

"I think there's something you've got to do." I whisper, grabbing her hand and taking her towards the exit.

It's time to finally end this.

{}

It takes us no time at all to find Serena- Her spot a Central Park. Blair and I approach her carefully, knowing that a lot of damage has been done. She looks up from her book, notices us, and then looks down again.

"Whenever something's bothering you, we can always find you here." She clears her throat, dog-earing her book and standing up.

"You here for another catfight?" She asks sarcastically.

"No, S." I say stepping closer and laying a hand on her arm, "Blair has something to tell you."

Reaching into her bag, the brunette pulls out a blue envelope.

"What's that?" Serena asks, looking unamused.

"A letter. I wrote it to you when you were away at boarding school. I never sent it." Blair's voice cracks as she fights back the tears. She needed this, they _both _needed this.

"Dear Serena,

"My world is falling apart, and you're the only one who'd understand. My father left my mother for a 31-year-old model… a male model.

"I feel like screaming because I don't have anyone to talk to. You're gone, my dad's gone, Evie won't speak to any of us- I don't even think she knows that you've left, and Nate's acting weird." Her voice breaks further as she continues on with the next sentence, the same sentence that broke my heart when she first read it to me, "Where are you? Why don't you call? Why did you leave without saying good-bye?

"You're supposed to be one of my best friends. I miss you so much.

Love, Blair."

She folds the letter back up and looks to Serena, who's feeling just the same as she is.

"Why didn't you send it?" She asks, heartbroken, "I would've-"

"-You would've what?" Blair interrupts, bottom lip trembling slightly, "You knew, Serena, and you didn't even call."

"I didn't know what to say to you or even how to be your friend after what I did." I wipe a tear from my eye and grab both of my friends' hands, which they accept. "I'm so sorry."

"Eric told us what happened." I say, feeling as though it was my turn to talk, "We know that your family's been going through a hard time, too. But we don't have to go through it alone anymore."

**Spotted in Central Park: Two white flags waving. Could and Upper East Side Peace Accord be far off? So what will it be- truce or consequences? We all know one nation can't have two queens, there personal advisor is going to have to pick a side. **

**What will happen next? Only time will tell.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl.**


	7. Snow White and the Apple

**AN: I'm baaaaaaaack! This is kind of AU to the episode but isn't at the same time. And for the record, if anyone get's confused, just imagine that instead of going to save Nate form the poker game the next day, it all happened in the same night.**

**OUTFITS, OC'S AND STILLS ON MY PINTEREST: Manhattanapples**

**SONG FOR CHAPTER: Daylight- Matt &amp; Kim**

**Big thank you to girl-at-home13, as always, if you haven't checked out her Chuck/OC story (though you probably have because it's awesome) then do it. And also to my reviewer, MysticDBRose17: Thank you very much! I am flattered that you are enjoying it, here is your update. ;)**

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**Hey, Upper East Siders. There's nothing Gossip Girl likes more than a surprise, and we hear Blair Waldorf's got a 2-for-1 special- Her mom Eleanor, who just returned from Paris, and Serena van der Woodsen, brunch buddies.**

**Serena and Blair might have plans for the day, but Nate and Chuck are fully booked for the weekend… If they survive it.**

**Seems like someone's itinerary didn't leave room for interlopers. Doesn't Chuck know that a party isn't a party until someone crashes?**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl**

My Saturday was looking to be a lonely one. Blair and Serena were off shopping in order to retain the friendship and closeness that they once had (they'd invited me, but more out of courtesy than actual want- I left them to it, not wanting to get in the way). And my only other friends were Nate and Chuck who were both off to the Lost Boy weekend or whatever is was called: I didn't even _want_ to be invited to that.

Consequently, I had taken to my couch with my worn copy of '_Of Mice and Men'_ and a bunch of take-out menus that I had kept to the side for later.

Fully prepared to make this day fly by, I dived into the book, and didn't look up until a knock sounded at my door.

Dog-earing the page, I shuffle to open the door in my slippers, expecting the caller to be a mail courier. Instead, some blonde guy I vaguely recognise stands on the other side of the threshold, looking clean in his plaid shirt and jeans whilst I stand in my long pyjama t-shit and slippers. I stare blankly at the visitor, waiting for him to ask for a cup of sugar or some washing detergent. However, he stares right back, a smirk on his face.

"Can I help you?" I finally ask, becoming uncomfortable with this encounter.

He points a finger at his face, "Don't you remember me?" I blink, "Max. It's Max, you know, the guy you rudely barged into not four days ago."

Suddenly, the memory clicks into place and I feel my face going red, "Oh _shit,_ right. I'm sorry, I-I remember now. What can I do for you Max?"

Max runs a rough hand through his hair, and looks me up and down nervously.

"Well, I noticed that you weren't at my house warming yesterday-"

"Oh, right, yeah. I completely forgot but next time I promise." I put a warm smile on my face, making sure that he knows that I meant what I said- I would've gone last night but I really did space after the whole Ivy/Serena thing.

"Well, maybe 'next time' could be tonight…" My head cocks to the side, curious at what he has to say and also amused at his obvious discomfort, "My friend's band is playing in Lower Brooklyn in this small dive named American Blues. I've got an extra ticket and no friends so I was wondering…?"

"If I would go with you?"

"That's only if you're into that kind of thing." Truthfully, I hadn't been to a lot of dive bars and even fewer concerts, but spending, what would've been, a lonely Saturday with a tub of Ben &amp; Jerry's and The Notebook was much less appealing than spending it with a pretty boy at a cool bar.

"Sure, that sounds fun." Large, white teeth gleam as he smiles.

"Cool! I'll pick you up at eight?" I nod in agreement.

Sending me a wink, Max turns on his heel and practically skips away, just for my amusement. I'm still laughing as I go back to sit on my couch.

{}

By the time eight rolls around, I've pumped myself up for this gig. Not knowing what the appropriate attire is, I just put on; some light blue, jean shorts; a black strapless, crop top; a plaid blue shirt and some black combat boots. As I slept with by hair in a plait, I just allow my locks to fall around my shoulders.

I'm on the book's last chapter when Max picks me up, so I make him wait at the kitchen table whilst I finish. Unfortunately, I didn't anticipate the tears that would accompany the ending and made him wait another ten minutes whilst I dry my eyes, fix my make-up and compose myself. When I get back, he's taken to looking at the spines on the bookshelf.

"Impressive collection." Max comments, not taking his eyes from the rows of novels.

"You say that like it's a surprise…" He turns to me, and despite me smiling, looks incredibly apologetic, which is incredibly cute.

"Oh no! I didn't mean it like that. I only meant that, when I saw you first… you were all dressed up and I assumed-"

"You assumed that I was a spoilt socialite with no intellect that lived off of her parent's extreme wealth?" I laugh at the guilty look on his face, "You're half right… I'll explain on the way to the gig." Grabbing his rough hand, I drag him out of the building and into the brightly lit New York night.

{}

American Blues was the stereotypical bar that I thought it would be, plus a few unique characteristics.

Dimly lit, everything was made out of dark mahogany wood from the pool tables to the cup coasters. The barstools and booths were fitted with plush green velvet and the behind the bar was rows and rows of decorative glasses which, Max told me, had been collected by the owner from around the world. Considering I was still sixteen, and Max only twenty, we shouldn't have been allowed alcohol but I'd had a fake ID since I was fifteen and Max knew the owners, therefore it was easy enough for us to get a beer and make our way towards the back.

Apparently, Max's friend's band was quite well known among the Brooklyn Unsigned Music scene, as the place was packed with people who were all dancing to the pre-show music. The vibe in the bar was awesome and I quickly became comfortable with having full length conversations with Max, which pretty much always ended with me hurtling over in laughter- once you got him out of his comfort zone, Max was hilarious.

Three pints later and the band was introduced.

"The favourite thing about coming to these kind of things," Max had said when we first got here, "Is the pre-signed names that the musicians had come up with."

As it turns out, he was telling the truth: the line-up included God's Time Machine, Tattoo on My Pinkie Finger and Lampshade Paradise. All of which played songs with either incredibly long titles or ones with only one character (e.g. Lampshade Paradise began with the song 'Stuck in a Town with Only One Lighter and Too Many Cigars in My Denim Coat Pocket' and ended their set with '4?'). However, despite the stupid hipster names, my Saturday night couldn't have gone better. Laughing and dancing and singing replaced any other worrying thoughts I had. And once the alcohol had hit my system, even my phone ringing and vibrating non-stop in my pocket couldn't keep my hands off of Max's strong, butch arms that I had just noticed budging out of his grey Henley.

"I'm going to go get us another drink!" He shouts over the music. I nod and shut my eyes again, swaying my hips madly to the tune.

When my phone vibrates again, I frown, choosing to just text whoever it was to fuck off and worry me in the morning. I flip out my phone and open the most recent message:

_**NATE IS IN TROUBLE. 5 Star Banquet, Queens. I'll meet you there. –C**_

The thought of Nate being in any kind of trouble sobers me up in a second. When faced with the choice of staying in this amazing place with a guy that I might want to explore further relationships with or helping one of my closest friends- there isn't one.

Turning towards the bar, I spot Max coming back with a beer in each hand. I walk up to him, twisting and turning through the crowd. When he sees my determined expression, his smile falls slightly.

"I'm so sorry, something's come up and I need to go."

"Oh. Anything I can help you with?" I smile, warmed at his worry.

"No but I had a great time. If you ever have another extra ticket, come find me." Kissing him on the cheek, I don't wait for a reply as I run out of the bar, hailing a taxi and giving the address that Chuck gave me. Thankfully, it was only ten minutes away, I just hope that I'm not too late.

**Spotted: Evie leaving her Brooklyn Baby before the night has ended, and we've got the intelligence to say that she's leaving them for Chuck. What happened to the 'No Girls Allowed' rule, C? Or can some rules be broken in order to win the game? Either way, we don't think that this Weekend will ever be a 'Lost' one.**

**You know you're predictable, E.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl**

Unlike American Blues, the place where the address took me didn't have the warm feel that came with the bar's dark atmosphere, instead, this place was just… well, _dark_. And sleazy.

Walking in, I saw Chuck looking into another room though a small window in the door.

"Chuck." I say, gaining his attention. He puts a finger to his lips, and I immediately quiet. Walking up behind him, I peep over his shoulder. "You made me leave my date to watch Nate play a card game?" I whisper in his ear, confused at why he said that this was an emergency.

Chuck's head turns and the expression on his face is an incredious and almost a derisive one. "Firstly, date? Who with?"

"Just some guy from my building… why?"

"No reason," I'm about to question him further when he rushes to change the subject, "And secondly, Carter Baizen-"

"Carter Baizen is here?!" My blood freezes and I feel sick to my stomach. My knees begin to buckle as I feel myself begin to have a panic attack. I grab onto Chuck's arm so that I'm steady, hoping that it appears as if I'm only doing this through shock.

"Yes, _and_ he stole my watch and baseball." Chuck brushes off my little arm touch, "He was the one that invited Nate to this little game, and I have reason to believe that this is all about to go sour…"

We watch closely as Nate begins to look around nervously, as if catching on to the con that was taking place around him. All of a sudden, he lashes out and grabs Carter by the throat, stimulating the other players to get up and reach for him.

Chuck stiffens as they get Nate into a tight spot, he slams the door open and struts in, me in toe. None of them seemed to have noticed out arrival.

"I'm trying to help you out." Carter's voice sends chills down my spine and memories come rushing back that I've desperately tried to forget.

"Yeah, you're a real _friend_." Shouts Chuck over the scuffle. Everyone freezes and looks to us. Carter slowly turns, smirking at Chuck and, when noticing me behind him, grins and winks. I begin to taste bile. Noticing the display between us, Chuck's fist clenches. I want to ask him why he reacts to that but now is definitely not the time.

"Who let you in here, Bass?"

"He set me up." Informs Nate, straining to break free of the muscle that binds him.

"No one forced his hand. Your boy lost fair and square." Carter interrupts, pointing angrily at Nate.

"Did you?" Asks Chuck, walking menacingly towards the men. Seeing his advancement, Carter spins back to Nate.

"Look, man, if you don't get 'em the money right away, I'm gonna tell everyone where you live, and they can come get it from you daddy. What do you think about that?"

At the threat, Chuck pushes Carter back roughly, I hate to admit it but the display of violence and rough behaviour has my… _nether regions…_ doing things that I hope they wouldn't be doing if I was sober.

"Look, you got my watch and my ball." Chuck whispers meanly, "You keep them. Take care of these guys. I don't call the cops, and we walk out of here."

Carter deliberates for a few seconds before scoffing and looking to his friends, "It's cool. I-I-I got it. I got it."

Nate is released with a violent push and he stumbles towards me. I grab his arm to steady him but he shakes it off. After he gets to throw a heated glare at the hippie, we begin to walk away, when Chuck suddenly stops and looks back at Carter.

"And Baizen," He turns, looking almost scared, "If you _ever _do so much as _look_ at her again… I won't just be taking back _that _ball." With the final word he swaggers out, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me with him as I stare up at him, confused.

As we get a cab back to Chuck's suite, I'm thoroughly worried about what he said to Carter: I wasn't certain who 'her' was, but after the way Chuck had reacted to Carter winking at me, I had a few ideas.

I complied in going back to The Palace purely because I was worried about Nate, and not because I wanted to look for a window of opportunity to corner Chuck and interrogate him. When in the room, Chuck wastes no time in pouring three tumblers of scotch, passing one to both me and Nate who had crashed on his sofa, exhausted from the evening's events.

I downed mine as soon as the glass touched my hand, earning myself a raised eyebrow from both of the guys.

"I'm not feeling good." The answer seems to suffice them as they take silent swings of their own glasses.

No one talks, the room is silent. I can feel the tension between the boys- it's so thick that I can probably cut it with a knife.

Twenty minutes of the deafening quiet later, an incredibly large yawn racks me and my body shakes with the need to sleep. The alcohol has gotten to the point where it stops me from keeping my eyes open for longer than thirty seconds.

"Evie, you're tired and I'm not putting you in a cab dressed like that." Chuck murmurs as he gestures to my short shorts and lace crop top.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I slur, pulling pathetically at my boots, "Have you seen the crap that you wear half the time?" Nate chuckles and I manage to get one boot off with an extra hard pull.

"We can argue about fashion sense in the morning but first you're going to get in the bed and sleep whilst the adults talk."

"If you think that I'm getting into that STD riddled bed you got another this coming Bass." Second shoe off and I look around for somewhere comfortable to rest my head. _Only for a minute, _I whisper to myself, _and then I'll get a cab home._

Sighing, Chuck puts his glass on the table and comes to stand over my sitting form. Putting an arm under my legs and another under my shoulder, Chuck carries my bridal style towards the bed.

"It's been washed, Angel. I give you a Bass promise that you won't catch anything."

My protestations cut off when my back hit the soft mattress, if one could sleep on a cloud, it would feel like this. I feel a goofy smile spread across my lips as I stretch under the silk duvet.

"Anything to get me in bed." I whisper as I feel my eyelids become heavier and finally droop closed.

The last thing I hear before I drop into a deep sleep, was Nate and the words, "Are you sure?" coming from his lips.

**This just in: E was seen entering The Palace on the arm of Chuck Bass and hasn't been seen since. Everyone knows that you can't choose your family, but you **_**can **_**choose your friends, only has E made the right choice? Or is it too late to turn back?**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl**

The only way to describe waking up on a bed made of the softest materials on earth is 'Heavenly', even better when you wake up feeling safe and warm with an arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the cosy body of-

_Chuck?!_

Nope.

Not happening.

Upon seeing the moppy, black hair, my reflexes kick in and I hit him. And a hard one at that.

"Ow!" Chuck groans, covering his head in case of any more attacks, "What was that for?"

"What happened? Why are you in bed with me? I did not ask for this?" I whisper harshly, being mindful of the oncoming hangover headache from Hell.

"Oh please, Angel. You were mewing my name all night." I scoff and look away, feeling my cheeks redden, _I hadn't done that, had I? _"Me and Nate could hardly figure things out money wise whilst you were practically, moaning my name."

"Don't flatter yourself… I probably said 'Fuck'." A smirk sets on his lips.

"No, you said that _too._" He throws me a wink and I immediately want to die of embarrassment.

"Whatever I said, I was drunk! Meaning that you can't hold anything against me!"

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to replay the sound of you moaning my name in pleasure-"

"Ew! Stop!" I shout, grabbing a pillow and hitting him with it.

Chuck laughs and waggles his eyebrows, "You want to finish what we started at Blair's?" I can't help the smile that sits on my lips as I recall our little play fight. Feeling bold, and possibly still drunk, I straddle him, relishing in his surprised, doe-eyed look that graces his face as he takes in my brashness.

"Be prepared to lose." I say, leaning down to distract him whilst my hand reaches for another pillow to initiate a surprise attack.

"Angel, a Bass never loses. The question is, what do I get when I win?"

Before I can give a snarky reply, we are interrupted my Nate's tired voice, "Guys!" He shouts into the sofa cushion, "Some of us are trying to sleep! _Please stop!_"

"I guess that's my cue." I whisper, suddenly becoming incredibly shy. I hop out of bed and gather my boots and shirt, not daring to look at Chuck, who I know is watching me as I walk around his suite. "Thanks for letting me crash… um, I-I'll see you at school."

The door shuts firmly behind me and I let out a huge breath.

_What have I gotten myself into?_


	8. Appletini

**AN: Okay, I am so sorry that I have taken so long to update and that when I do it's a chapter with no more than 2,000 words and no Chuck. It's just that I've been put under a shit ton of stress for my GCSE's and that crap. **

**Alas, I assure my wonderful followers, favouriters, and reveiwers that the rest of the episode shall be up soon, and that chapter will include everyone's favourite Bass ;)**

**Bleh: You're amazing, no writer could ask for better reviews. I love you man, and that last one made me update so creds to you!**

**CharitinaX: I'm absolutely over the moon with your comment! Thank you! And in response to your confession, it's all good to be confused because it's quite a complicated set up. I shall DM you for a full explanation.**

**ChordOverstreetFan: Mate, Nair all the way (for this fic anyway, I'm a die-hard Chair shipper).**

**Also a thanks to smilin steph, Momsen-xxxx and Sarah who have all allowed me to come out of studying and remember that I need to write.**

**SONG FOR CHAPTER:** **Ain't It Fun - Paramore**

**OUTFITS AND ALL THAT JAZZ ON MY PINTEREST:** **Manhattanapples**

* * *

Walking into school on a Friday was undoubtedly the best part of my week: knowing that in less than seven hours I would be home for two whole, stress-free days. I was practically jumping up and down at lunch break as I skipped into the courtyard and plopped down next to Blair.

The brunette smiles at my cheeriness and looks down at me from her glamorous throne that is the table top.

"What's got you all smiley?"

"Well-" I begin, readying my 'Thank God It's Friday' speech when she interrupts me.

"Yes!" Blair gushes, "I know, my annual sleepover. I'm not surprised that you're excited to sleep somewhere other than that homeless shelter you pay rent for."

My frown falls slightly, but I still manage to keep up a smile for Blair's sake.

I'd completely forgotten about her sleepover, Hell, I would've thought that she'd given up on such a childish thing to do- the only sleepovers anyone has anymore replaces nail polish with candles and face masks with condoms.

"Um, _sleepover_? I love you, Blair, but don't you think that playing spin the bottle and watching sad movies is a little… _freshman?_"

Blair scoffs and playfully slaps my arm, "Trust me that is _not_ what tonight is all is about… I've got something special planned…"

Curious at last, I lean forward slightly, "Do tell."

Her devious smile prowls her face, "You're going to have to wait and see."

I let out an overly dramatic groan as I fall back onto the seat. _Why, oh why, did Waldorf have to tempt me so?_

Laughing she kicks my legs, wordlessly telling me to pay attention to her.

"Well, as a little taster, we've got little Jenny Humphrey as Serena's replacement."

My eyes widen when Jenny is mentioned. I hadn't seen her since the Kiss on the Lips party and I'd like to keep it that way: I didn't want her involved in the crazy socialite scene.

"Jenny? Blair, whatever your brain is scheming under that headband, don't do it."

"Scheming?! I'm not scheming, I'm _moulding_."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I need _someone_ to take my place when I leave."

Chuckling, I begin to put on my coat and ready myself to leave for my final lessons, "Blair, you make it sound like you're a dying monarch."

She smiles at me as she too gets ready (and by that I mean adjusting her headband as her minions get her things). "Maybe I am."

{}

It's 6:30, ten minutes before I have to leave and I have absolutely no clue as to what to bring to a Waldorf _Soiree._ Is there going to be a hot-tub this year? Do I need a bikini? Towels? My fake ID? My freaking passport? I have no idea.

When the doorbell rings, I'm hot and bothered meaning that whoever is on the other side of the door better not be expecting anything but the sweaty, stressed person that is myself.

Annoyed by all things sleepover, I swing the door open violently and seethe out the only greeting that comes to my mind, "What?" A second of silence flies by until I figure out that the only person that would knock on my door, or _visit_ me, is Max. Seeing him in all his plaid glory, I'm quick to stumble and correct myself, "I mean- I, uh… Max! Hi!"

Plastering a toothy grin on my face, I motion for him to enter my humble abode, only my frown falls when he stays put outside the threshold.

"I, uh, can't stay for long. I just wanted to stop by and say that I had fun last Saturday." Max's hands were in his pockets, and his shoulders were hunched in awkwardness.

"I had fun too…" An uncomfortable silence passes between us, "Does that mean that you want to do it again sometime, or…?"

"Evie, don't get me wrong, you're great-"

"-Oh boy."

"-But I don't think that I can see a girl who's not seeing me." _Hold on, what? _My hip cocks with attitude and my hand rests on my waist.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's just that…" he seems to think about his answer, "you always seem like you've got somewhere to be… with someone in particular." His eyebrows raise knowingly at that last bit, as though I'm meant to catch on to his meaning by watching his brows lift.

"I don't _always _have somewhere to be." I scoff.

Max gestures to my half packed over-night bag, "So you can hang out now?"

I bite my lip, trying to think of an appropriate response- I come up empty, "Okay, fine so I'm a busy person! That doesn't mean that I don't _have free time_!"

"You have free time, you just don't seem to care who you spend it with."

"Who I spend it with? Max, we've been out _once_, and I left you because there was an emergency with my-"

"-With your _friend, _I know. I'm not a hermit, Evie: I know people in high places too, I also have internet."

Thoroughly confused, I gesture between us frantically, trying to decipher the hidden message. "What are we talking about here?"

"Gossip Girl, Evie. She seems to have an awful lot of things to say about you and some guy." _Some guy?_ I should never have unsubscribed to that pesky site: the bitch is writing about me again.

Trying to play it off and not bring the conversation closer to a boy that shall not be named, I blow a childish raspberry and say through a fake laugh, "You read Gossip Girl? What are you, an eleven year old girl?"

Max sighs, "Look, Evie. I like you. You're beautiful and funny and interesting and I really wouldn't mind if you came knocking one day and asked if I wanted to grab a coffee. Just make sure you don't have some rich, private school boy waiting outside the barista to whisk you off to his palace."

"Jesus, how many times do I have to say that there is _nothing_ going on between me and Chuck!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air, exhausted with this conversation.

"I don't know, maybe until it's true. I'll see you around." And just like that, the blonde, handsome, band member, who has pretty hands and teeth no longer occupies the doorway.

Slamming the door shut, I angrily stalk to my phone, flipping it open and typing in the URL to the Gossip Girl website. Searching my name, a recent post pops up.

**Spotted: Evie leaving her Brooklyn Baby before the night has ended, and we've got the intelligence to say that she's leaving them for Chuck. What happened to the 'No Girls Allowed' rule, C? Or can some rules be broken in order to win the game? Either way, we don't think that this Weekend will ever be a 'Lost' one.**

**You know you're predictable, E.**

**Xoxo Gossip Girl**

I'm not sure whether or not my phone will break under the pressure that my fist is putting in under, but I wouldn't be surprised if it did. I am angry.

No. Scratch that. I'm fucking _livid._

I swear, when I find the bitch who is ruining _my life _(and don't doubt that I will), there will be Hell to pay.

{}

There was not a Waldorf sleepover- I mean _soiree_\- that could be beaten. The foyer of Blair's apartment is adorned with luxury camp beds, beauty stations, five-star cuisine, racks of her mother's designer clothes… you name it.

The floor was dimly lit to create a sophisticated atmosphere. However the same can't be said for the giggling girls with gins in their hands.

Upon seeing my arrival, Blair pushes her glass into poor Jenny's hands and prances over to me, pre-clubbing pyjamas complimenting her figure. I'd gotten ready beforehand, after texting Darota for tonight's itinerary (the one that Blair wouldn't give me and Darota wouldn't give me until I promised to bring her some chocolate). I'd gone uber hot topic for tonight, wanting to finally show everyone that there was not an ounce of _anything _but contempt for Chuck Bass.

I'd skilfully worked my way into a short, tight pink sparkly dress and gone for make-up that could either be saying, 'sexy, no-shit, taking names and kicking arse' _or_ 'cute, easily manipulated, buy me two drinks and I'm yours'. I don't know which look I'm going to stick with yet.

"I'm so happy you're finally here! Come on, we've just started playing Truth of Dare." Taking my hand, she pulls me towards the group before I can even get a protest in.

Walking over to the girls, I'm greeted by a steamy kiss shared between Kati and Is, who giggle along with everyone else once they part.

"Evie!" Kati squeals, "Just in time, it's _your _turn!" She says with a wink.

"Ha-ha," I murmur nervously, slowly backing away from the hungry eyes that look to me, "Well, I'm sorry to say that I have been dying to go to the toilet since I got in the cab so… pass!" Running upstairs to the bathroom, I can't help but smile with the laughs echoing from the parlour.

After taking extra time and care in washing my hands in order to delay partaking in the games, words drift up the staircase from the girls.

"Is that Eric Van der Woodsen?" _Eric? Why are they talking about Eric? _"I thought he went home for the weekend?"

"Guess it didn't happen." Jenny sounds _pissed. _I skip down the stairs, curious to see what's going on. I take a cocktail glass from one of the waiters before going over to the girls watching Blair get ready.

"Is, why don't you take the girls to Visconti? Apart from Jenny and Evie. We'll meet you there in an hour." The girls all leave like the fashionably dressed, high-heeled private soldiers they are.

Blair gracefully stands from her seat at the dressing table. I spy he sparkling, mischievous look in her eye and immediately take a large gulp of the gin: _now_ is the moment when this soiree becomes a Waldorf Soiree.

"Let's ramp this up, shall we?" _Crap. I don't like the sound of that_. Jenny just stares confused and apprehensive like a deer in the headlights. "Truth or dare? Oh, and you already used your truth."

I look to Jenny, eyes wide and incredious of her answer. Is she going to play Blair's game, or walk away?

"So… dare-"

"-I dare you to jailbreak Eric." Blair flies in with the demand as I take another swig of gin, beginning to feel the warmth in my belly swell to other parts of my body.

"You can't be serious, Blair?" I say, despite knowing that she is deadly serious- when it comes to games, _any _games, Blair Waldorf knows how to play dirty.

"Evie, come on. It's perfect. She wants in and he wants out." Her large eyes hold Jenny's shy ones, daring her to give up and leave. "What's it gonna be? Do or die, Little J.?"

Jenny deliberates her options for a spilt second, giving me hope that she'll run away from this scene and never dare to come back. Only the deal-breaking words, "Let's do it." Leaves her lip glossed lips and I know that Blair has begun to create a monster.

**Spotlight on Little J, now put to the test by one Queen B. Will J. take the bait and turn from Brady to Britney, or will her goody two-shoes mind-set turn into the night's biggest buzz kill? **

**Xoxo Gossip Girl.**


	9. Apple of my Eye

**AN: Shit, look I know. Trust me I know I've be a little shit but I promise the updates will come sooner and the writing will be better. I just am desperate to finish this episode because the next chapter, in my view, is gonna be sick if I can right it correctly.**

**Thank you to all the new followers and to the ones that are still bothering to check if I've updated and the reviewers constantly making me look at my email and think "God-Dammit I need to update."**

**If there our errors please forgive me, I'm tired and bored of this chapter. **

**SONG FOR CHAPTER:** **Stitches**** \- Shawn Mendes**

**OUTFITS AND ALL THAT JAZZ ON MY PINTEREST:** **Manhattanapples**

**Btw, as I am determined to update and write more often, If any of you desperate to kick me up the backside and get me working feel free to DM me your Snapchats where you can remind me all you like and get updates on how the story is going. It's just an idea.**

**Anyway... I don't own Gossip Girl.**

* * *

Unfortunately for Jenny, due to my alcohol consumption during the time in-between Blair and her agreeing to the dare and the time when they were ready to leave, I was unable to help with the prison break. Instead they shoved my liable arse into a taxi and sent me on my way to the bar.

When I got there, the place was packed with hot, sweaty bodies of the rich and wealthy. Music was beating against the dance floor, which seemed to be the whole floor space- booths were interestingly placed amongst the gyrating bodies of the drunk and horny.

I spot the posse in the centre of the floor (unsurprisingly) and wade my way through the sea in order to get to them. A martini with my name on it is waiting patiently for me. I flop down, throwing my silver clutch on the table, and slide into the booth in an unladylike manner. I grin at the laughing eyes of the other girls as they watch my comedic display of downing the martini, wiping my mouth of the few droplets that escaped my lips: I'd never been a very responsible drinker, especially when I have no one to impress. And that includes a certain scarf-wearing son-of-a-bitch.

When the conversation dulls, I begin to people watch, acutely aware that some are also watching me. Feeling unsettled at their eyes, I pull the tight dress further down, hiding my thighs that I fear bulge out where I sit. When it doesn't help my comfort levels, I stand, intending to hide amongst the dancers. Noticing my intentions to start our little party, the girls cheer me on, throwing their drinks in the air in salute, a few get up with me but most stay to text and gossip.

I slink my way between clubbers, narrowly avoiding drinks and sloppy hands. A couple of guys try to intervene but I shove them off, not in the mood for anything down my throat but alcohol: As the night has slowly progressed, I've become less and less in the mood to party and more in the mood to be pathetic and pity myself- something is missing from my equation on fun and I'm too afraid to dwell on what that is.

Ordering a gin and tonic, I slightly push my breasts out allowing the bartender to serve me free of charge (a little trick I learnt in Madrid with a certain Van der Woodsen).

"I haven't seen you in here before!" He shouts over the music, his breath hot and uncomfortable on the skin below my ear. "Where have you been you all my life?" Giving him a tight smile, I toss half the drink back.

"Anywhere else." I answer moodily.

I spy a red coat with a brunette head poking out. Blair. I fall in next to her smiling at Eric in greeting, who grins back in excitement. _Poor kid, _I thought to myself, _I know that being confined to one room, alone, is shit._

"Evie," Kati squeals, "You would never believe what Jenny just did!" I take another sip of my drink, eyes assessing the little blonde as she laughs at something Blair said. If I'm not mistaken, there's _that_ twinkle in her eye. The one that shows the intimidating and worrying mixture of joy and devilish charm.

"It doesn't matter now, Evie," J gleams with the golden glow of feeling acceptance, "It's your turn. Truth or dare?"

I groan, running an exasperated hand through my hair. Giving up, I shrug my shoulders, "Truth."

"Where have you been for the last ten months?" Jenny asks, inciting the other girls, including Blair (who pretends as though she already knows the answer when she's really just as desperate for the gossip as the rest of the piranhas) to hush and lean in closer, thirsty for the exclusive knowledge.

"I change my mind." I say quickly, palms sweating, jaw tightening. "Dare."

Blair pouts playfully, bouncing on her heels in mock frustration.

"You're no fun, E. Come on… what happened to the carefree, open girl that we all knew?"

I force a laugh for her sake, but my eyes are hooded in frustration, "She wants a dare."

"Alright then, fine." Queen B pauses to ponder, a smirk playing on her lips as she looks over my shoulder towards the bar. She nods to a suited back as it hunches over a glass of port, all I can gather is that the back it good, _real good, _and the guy is rich- the fabric of his shirt proves it. "I dare you to kiss that guy."

"Really?" I ask, confused at why she'd pick someone at random and not one of the many observers watching our little party.

And infamous smirk plays on her lips, "Really."

Sighing, I get up, brushing my dress down and fixing my hair.

_It's just a peck, right? Just a peck to shut them up about this stupid game._

I start heading towards the back only to be stopped by Blair's laughing voice, "_With tongue."_

Shivering in disgust at the perversion waiting to be committed and empathy for the guy who I'm about to force myself on, I put one foot in front of the other and before I know it, I'm behind him, seconds away from planting my glossy, gin-tasting lips on his.

Close up, I can see that he's a brunette. That's good. I like brunettes.

_Just pretend its Bradley Cooper._

Closing my eyes, I twist the bar stool around and smash my face onto his, surprised that I managed to blindly get to his lips and not his eyeball or something.

At first I can feel him struggle in shock but soon when my plump lips pucker against his and I run my tongue across his lower lip, he lets me in. Luckily, his lips are soft and incredibly kissable. In fact, I can't remember any kiss (without emotions attached to it) that felt this good. Despite the disgust I hold for myself, I lean in further, bravely running my hands from his hard, padded shoulders, up his soft neck and into his long, silken hair. He groans when I tug the dark locks, his tongue dancing against mine, mirroring the dancers behind us.

When I'm satisfied that I've completed the terms of the dare I let him go, almost reluctantly, keeping my eyes focused on my feet in embarrassment.

"Sorry," I murmur, surprised that the stranger can hear me over the music, "it was a dare for my friends party and-"

"Its fine, Evie." My body tenses at the voice. My head whips up, eyes glaring accusations into the devilish eyes of Mr Chuck Fucking Bass. "But if you really are sorry… we can take this back to my place?"

_No. No, no, no. This cannot be happening._

Ignoring his hand, still resting on my waist, I spin to find Blair, who's in hysterics. Watching her eyes gleam in triumph my mind whirls to understand and then it all clicks into place.

She knew it was him.

I bet they planned this.

_He _made this happen.

Turning on him, my lips straighten into a distressed line, hands pushing him away. Chuck doesn't budge. Instead he tightens his hold on my body, standing up in order to pull me against him.

To anyone looking, we'd look… _intimate_.

"Why are you here?" I whisper, too afraid to trust my own voice- especially when his thumb begins to stroke the thin fabric covering my hip bone.

"You've been ignoring me, Angel." Bass leans in to speak, his hot breath tickling my neck sending shivers down my spine.

Honestly, yes. I have been ignoring the heir of Bass industries. Ever since last Saturday night- and the morning after –I've been avoiding Chuck. It's just that in the few moments when I looked at him, lying in the same bed as me, I didn't see some spoilt brat who was vying for… _everything_. Instead, I laid eyes on someone who had tucked me in and not touch me, who stood up for me against Carter. Someone who helps his friends even when they haven't been friendly.

And it scared the shit out of me.

Only I couldn't tell him the truth otherwise things would change into unknown waters and I'm not ready for that. And I don't know if I'll ever be.

"I haven't been ignoring you. I've just been busy. Now why are you here?"

His free arm joins the other and he enshrouds me in his suited warmth. The fucked up thing is I know I should wriggle my way out but alternately I find myself leaning in just a fraction of an inch.

Brown hair tickles my collar bone as he leans further in, "Isn't it obvious."

Before I can come up with a witty reply warm lips make contact with the dip between my neck and shoulder. I gasp, half in shock and half in sensation.

I feel my name being whispered against my skin, and it occurs to me that the alcohol isn't the only thing making me drunk. The way he nips and licks at my skin as he follows the trail of dirty seduction up to my lips makes me crazy: I want to shout and scream and runaway but at the same time I want to give in to the nagging voice at the back of my head, reminding me of Chuck last week and Chuck before that and the Chuck now. And _now_ I can feel heat bloom under my panties.

_Fuck you, _I want to scream, _fuck you for being the back that I had to kiss. _But instead I let my hungry lips meet his, allow my hands to wonder from my side to his face as his palms trace fire against my sides, grant my eyes to flutter shut and oblige to opening my throat and letting the soft moan to escape me.

I willingly kiss Chuck Bass.

And I like it.

**Spotted: Evie getting hot and heavy with everyone's favourite Upper East Side rich boy. Only I must warn you, E- A Bass never lets an opportunity slip away from him under the dim lights of a club. I think it's time you face up to the facts or take the consequences.**

**What will it be? Truth… or dare?**

**XOXO Gossip Girl.**


	10. What's Worse than a Worm In Your Apple?

**AN: Sup. Listened to you criticisms and all that jazz and thank you all so so so much for reviewing and following and favoriting - it is what motivates me. **

**This is the last chapter for this episode and I am so excited for you to read my version of The Hand Maiden's tale.**

**iheartux3: The next few chapters are going to be longer! Thank you for your awesome review!**

**bleh: You're great-as always. But in response to the comment about the language, I know this is fiction but I like my characers to be as real as possible which is why I think that these self-entitled rich kids would be okay with swearing (especially when drunk) but in future I will remember to put up a warning so nobody gets offended :)**

**Thank you to everyone else that reviewed, you're all beautiful!**

**Disclaimer: Any dialogue, plot or characters you recognize from the show is not mine.**

**OUTFITS AND EPISODE STILLS ON MY PINTEREST: manhattanapples (the last few chapters are under Episode 5 board)**

**SONG FOR CHAPTER: Can't think of one that fits, if you think of one, tell me! **

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Even with the heavy, loud bass music shaking the club, there was nothing but the thudding of my heart and the occasional groan that met my ears: for some unknown reason all that I was aware of was the idea that I had to keep going otherwise I would be forced to think and everything was going to go to shit. Despite the rational Evie beginning to dangerously overthink everything, the drunken Evie awaking inside of me was ecstatic to finally be getting some action whether it was with Bass or not. She purrs when her back hits the bar and her dress rides up slightly. She's whispering sweet nothings in my ear: encouraging me; telling me to give in to those desires I'd been trying so hard to keep hidden ever since my eyes laid on Chuck at Blair's house when I arrived back.

_Speaking of Blair, _my rational mind begins to think only to be abruptly cut short by the velvety voice of my blissful nightmare who's lips escape mine, leaving me wanting so much more.

Eyelids flutter open and brown iris' meet. A thumb reaches out to brush my swollen lip and a shiver runs down my spine at the soft touch.

"Let's get out of here. Come home with me, Angel." I falter slightly at his demand but keep myself in his arms.

_Come home with him? To do what? _

_What do you think, idiot. _Grumbles the drunk Evie in mock exasperation.

_Make love?_

_HA!_

Make love? Make love. What am I a twelve year-old girl who still believes in prince charming and white horses? Get a grip, that dream died months ago.

Shaking the thought away immediately I pass reign to my other half (aka the non-sober half) who nods eagerly in response clutching at the opportunity I've denied myself for weeks yet now the thought of letting Chuck in was surprisingly reassuring.

A large grin spreads across his face and I can't help but smile with him. Leaning back into me he kisses the line of my jaw humming in a barely heard whisper- one I almost missed hearing.

"I knew I'd get you someday." As the words are muttered all of the sudden the club music comes blasting back at full volume acting as an alarm clock.

To explain what happens to me next, just imagine you're walking down a street enjoying yourself, believing that nothing can taint this perfect moment and then your livid doppelgänger hits you with a bus.

Drunk Evie doesn't know how to drive busses. Livid Evie can do anything when she's angry enough.

Instead of the sliding back into the comfortable nest my hands had made in his hair, they roughly push him back knowing that the more distance put between us the less I'd want to kiss him.

Shocked at my sudden mood change he's unable to stop himself from releasing his hold which I evade when he playfully tries to grab me again. As if this was a game.

_But it is, isn't it? _

I've always known he was just playing, Gossip Girl even knew it. Everybody knew it. Only I saw those fleeting looks and the hints to show that he might've wanted something more, but _I should've known it._

I glance fleetingly at Blair, who lounges relaxed with a glass in her hand and her phone in the other. If Chuck wanted anything more than sex she'd have been shocked to the bone, running for me in an effort to get me away from this mistake. And that is what this is- a mistake.

"Get me? What am I, a giant teddy bear at a fun fair?" His lips tip upwards in that god-damn smirk and it makes me want to latch onto it with my teeth and rip it off.

"Of course not, Evie. If were at a fun fair you'd be a ride."

My teeth bite down hard onto my tongue stopping me for lashing out blindly. Instead of clawing at his face for being what I always knew he was, I calmly- with a poker face worthy to rival even the most skilful of gamblers –step around him and walk back to the table, grabbing my clutch, kissing Blair on the cheek (who gives me a wink as though she knows who I'm leaving with) and head towards the door.

As I begin to walk past the bar making an obvious display of ignoring Chuck I see out of the corner of my eye his victorious smirk fall into a thin line as he realises that I'm leaving… without him.

Even with the music I can hear him shout my name but I just keep walking; through the door; through coat check; through security; and through the throngs of street walkers all single minded with their destination. I don't bother looking back as I begin to walk already knowing that he's behind me.

"Evie," Chuck calls, sounding barely bothered by my back retreating hurriedly. "I've had a lot to drink and I'm not in my fittest form, Angel." I scoff escapes my lips, _you haven't been at you fittest form since you took that first hit from the bong._

When I don't reply I can tell he gets angrier when I hear him barge streetwalkers out of the way.

"Evie! Jesus Christ! Slow down, I'm going to pull a muscle because of you!"

Whirling to a halt I spin to face him, a victorious smirk gracing his face at my stopping. My upper lip lifts slightly at his vanity.

"Trust me Bass, no matter how drunk I am, I will not be pulling _any _of your muscles."

Chuck chortles loudly, clasping his hands and leaning forward, his laugh reverberating. "Angel, I love it when you talk dirty."

I ball my fists in frustration, feeling all of my muscles tense in the need to pummel him. "Ugh! You're so infuriating!" I scream, stomping away (which is a difficult feat in these heels), not even caring if he follows me all the way back to Brooklyn- but I doubt he could be amongst the commoners for too long without the comforts of his stretch limo.

I turn to cross the street in an attempt to create more distance when my heel digs into the crack in the pavement and cause my foot to collapse, sending a raging pain to blast through ankle. Cursing blindly, grab the pained limb feeling frustrated tears swell in my eyes.

_Could this night get any worse?_

As if on cue, an arm wraps around my waist and lifts me slightly consequently taking some of the weight of my ankle. Chuck reached down to my foot and carefully takes of the devil shoe, I slide the other one off, relishing the refreshing feel of the cool pavement on my sore soles. Despite hating him, I lean in, resting in his arms- _but just for the benefit of my ankle, I swear…_

"Thanks." I whisper meekly, sniffling as quietly as possible.

"Let me take you home, Angel. My car is just around the block," I feel his warm lips press against cheek, "Just let me take you home."

Swallowing my pride, I nod, knowing I won't be able to walk home in this drunken, clumsy and injured state. Without giving me a second to change my mind, Chuck picks me up bridal style, apologizing when I hiss in the sudden shooting pain, and begins walking towards the street corner.

I forget how persuasive he can be.

Suddenly, he bursts out laughing, causing vibrations to transfer from his chest to my side. The feeling makes me feel weird, as though a laugh free of sarcasm is foreign to Chuck and this genuine emotion coming from him is… making me want him to share it.

"What so funny?" I ask looking up at his smooth chin to relish in the creases of laughter that rarely grace his face.

"Nothing, it's nothing. Just…" He looks down at me, joy filled eyes meeting my own hurt ones, "I wonder how we must look, my $800 dollar suit being crumpled by a shoeless teenager who is nearing the brink of passing out. We must look like quite the pair."

"Your suit is three times as much as this sparkly, pink dress and it's only black. Why would anybody spend so much money on one colour?"

"Because the more you spend on something that you could buy cheap, the more untouchable you become." An overwhelming sense of pity floods me and I hide my eyes from Chuck, knowing the sympathy that he might see there would hurt his overly sensitive ego.

As we walk in newfound silence, I can feel my eyes begin to drift shut and my hands absentmindedly begin to play with the end of his scarf, the only way that I am able to tell we're nearing the limo is when Chuck begins to slow down.

"Make sure she gets home safe." He says to what I assume to be his driver, "And then meet me back here in an hour."

"Yes Sir." Comes the employee's swift reply.

The door opens and I'm carefully placed in the back seat in such a way that my injured led is propped up the side seats, which all makes me feel incredibly pathetic and needy.

"You're not coming with me?" I didn't want to sound disappointed because if I was thinking rationally I would be far from it but I could help the ounce of disillusionment that betrayed me.

A small smile plays on his lips as he presses an ice bucket to my now swollen ankle, "Not this time, I've got some business to attend to."

"I'm sure you do," I reply with a small laugh. "You do know that when I'm completely sober and my ankle is only slightly tender, I'm going to act as though none of tonight happened."

"I thought you'd say that." Leaning against the car, Chuck looks down at me with a look that I find extremely difficult to name. "You must know by now that I find it a struggle to communicate my thoughts in..." a playful smirk graces his face, "an _orthodox _way. So I hope that whatever I said or did to cause you to leave that delightful place, know that I didn't do it with the intention of losing what distance I had made with you."

"How eloquent."

"I'm charming when I want to be."

"And you're an irritating so-and-so for the rest of the time."

"Am I really so horrible to be around?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"Maybe I can give you a more complete impression."

"Ha! I doubt it but thanks for the lift… or lifts?"

"I'll uh, give you a ride anytime." I give him a look that says, _you're unbelievable,_ but decide that I'm too tired to argue with him anymore.

"Right, well, on that note I'm going to go home and sleep _everything _off."

"Okay Angel."

He nods to the driver and straightens, pressing down the creases of his suit jacket. His hand comes to rest on the door and I turn to my seat belt, thinking that he was just going to close the door and that would be that, but I should've known that Chuck always needed to leave an impression.

"But know that you may pretend as though nothing happened between us tonight but I'm going to dream about the taste of your sweet lips until the day I get another sample."

The door closes with a final thud, creating a blacked out barrier between him and I, only despite the tinted windows I hope he can _feel _the glare I'm giving him. And as the limo begins to drive of into the dark New York streets, I swear that I can hear him laugh.

That son-of-a-Bass.

**Word is Jenny Humphrey killed at Blair Waldorf's sleepover. It was a debut the likes of which haven't been seen since Blair herself. If Blair's got to watch her back Serena needs to keep an eye on her heart. We hear it may have been stolen my Lonely Boy.**

**And speaking of hearts, we hear Evie's was beating pretty quickly. In fact this had been a very entertaining night for our favourite runaway. I just hope that when she tucks herself in tonight, she remembers that there is a reason you have to be asleep for your dreams to come true. **

**Wakey, wakey Upper East Siders, this is a city that never sleeps.**

**Putting out an A.P.B,**

**Gossip Girl.**

* * *

**Good? Or naaaaah? Review please, be nice!**


	11. NOT AN UPDATE I'M SO FRICKIN SORRY

Okay! So! Let's get to it!

1)I'm fundamentally and irrevocably disappointed in myself because I swore to the Heavens when I started this fic that I would not, under any circumstances, do the fickle bitch thing and post an update explaining why I haven't updated-I'm so sorry!

2)The next one hundred words is basically my life story up to this point so please don't flame. If you want an explanation read on, if you don't just sit tight an ACTUAL UPDATE is on it's way.

Okay, right...

The short answer is that I've been suffering from quite a few of my mental disorders recently (yeah, I know, "boohoo! It's not like you're the only one in the world") which have physically made me incapable of doing much more then the bare minimum of college work and nothing else. There have been several times where I've sat down, solely focusing on finishing the next few chapters but to no avail. Alas, I thought it was time to break my aforementioned rule of updating without an update and give you lovely and adorable guys a bit of an explanation.

Basically, I had a near complete, fucking brilliant chapter for you guys sitting on this laptop waiting desperately to be completed and we were so close. This shitty piece of hardware had other plans, however. Lesson to be learnt:

ALWAYS BACK UP YOUR WORK, MAGGIE!

If you guys want to message me for any reason go ahead! The reviews are a blessing and I love even the smallest one despite hating myself for not doing anything about the requests for an update.

I've never met any of you but I love you, thank you for having the willpower to be disapointed when you seen if I've had the nerve to update.

-Maggie (AKA the fickle bitch that won't get her shit together and write)

PS For reference, I'm feeling a lot better and am desperately working myself up to rewrite the chapter I sweated and slaved over for the past 4+ months (along with the others). I cannot think of an exact date but my heart is set on two maybe three chapters before Christmas.


	12. The Devil and his Apple

**AN: Bitches thought you heard the last of me...**

**Sorry I'm really tired.**

**SONG FOR CHAPTER: The Queen's Nose by Slow Club**

**OUTFITS AND EPISODE STILLS: My pitnerest - Manhattanapple**

**So enjoy... got there in the end. Don't know if I'm completely happy with it but #YOLO (lol hms)**

**Night.**

* * *

I didn't need to open my eyes to know that it was a beautiful day: my face was warm and sleep when the first colour I see is the gold glow that the white duvet makes when it merges with the sun's orange tint. The muffled harmony of giggling breaks through the quilt also and I feel silk nightgowns brush me as the legs of Serena and Blair move with laughter.

"Evie! Wake up, come on!" Blair squeal, pushing my heavy weight with force.

"Evie, you've been asleep for _hours_, we're wasting the day." Serena's own honey voice drips with friendly impatience, and I expect that she too is wanting to cherish every minute of this calm before the storm.

I hold no doubts that these past few days have been the best days I've had in what seems like forever. Because of the masquerade ball every single girl that goes to Constance Billiard has had only two things on their minds 1) what they're going to wear to the ball and 2) who they're going to take to the ball. Consequently there's been no unnecessary or tiresome drama and Serena, Blair and I have revisited the old days: days that were carefree and where none of us had slept with anyone else's boyfriends. What's better is that between school, homework and catching up with Blair and Serena there's been no time to accidentally run in to _him. _

And by 'him' I mean the bane of my existence - who just won't let me be – Chuck Bass. Who hasn't even checked in to see I was _alive_ since last Saturday. But I'm not bothered by that.

So yes, it's been an amazing week but again it's the calm before the storm. And I just wanted to be in this happy place for-

"Five more minutes?" I groan with a dry, cracked voice that tries to cry out when the duvet is ripped away. I pull my saliva slicked hand away from my face, trying to reach for a blanket or a pillow to cover my vulnerable body.

"No! We've got less than a day to finish preparing for the masquerade ball tonight, and you don't even know what you're wearing yet, so get up before I set your disgusting shoes on fire!"

"Fine!" I shout and then, sitting up I mumble moodily, "Just don't touch my boots."

Laughing they move around me, lounging rather than lying, showing off their expensive and luxurious lingerie to no one in particular. I sit crossed legged between them, my flannel shirt buttoned wrong and my unshaven legs peeking from my tracksuits, rubbing the sleep from my tired eyes. Their eyes sparkle with excitement and they discuss tonight, wanting to include me so that they could successfully dictate what I will wear. It's always been their job considering I didn't care much about the politics of clothes in the Upper East Side, all I've ever cared about in the past is what I'm getting high off of that night. The beauty of it was that Blair and Serena _really _didn't mind – I think that they want to dress me all the time.

"So Kati mentioned something about a custom-made corset, and I hear that there are _wigs _involved?" Bewilders Serena, balking over the idea of getting dressed up so ridiculously.

"It's a masquerade. You have to conceal your identity," Reasons Blair, her voice giving evidence to her concealed excitement. "But I do have something special planned for Nate tonight." I perk up at this, leaning in closer. It's the first Serena and I have hear about this 'special' plan and we've both been rooting for a development in the Blare &amp; Nate Department. Blair's eyes hood with scheming, her hand rubbing like a thief. "It's a game." She reveals. Serena's eyebrows light up.

"Sounds kinky." Blair sticks her tongue out at me haughtily, but her cheeks go red.

"Shut up! It's a scavenger hunt. Nate starts the night with a clue, which leads him to a lady-in-waiting, who gives him a clue to the next lady-"

"-Wait. Hold on. You have ladies now?" Serena tries to interject but Blair, in her confidence, ignores it and carries on excitedly.

"If he finds me before midnight when the masks come off, he can claim his prize." _Damn, the poor boy is not going to not what's hitting him._

"And's what's his prize?" Serena innocently asks.

"What do you mean 'what's his prize'?" I elate, going smoky in voice to imitate her and dodging the pillow she chucks at me in response. "I think it's obvious what the prize is." I laugh, winking at Blair who giggles back.

"Oh. Yeah, right. Sorry." Serena says awkwardly, smiling at her hands.

Blair sighs and tucks her hair behind her ears, going to pick off the stray nail varnish from the self-manicure last night. "I just figured that everything that's happened… or _hasn't _happened, I should find a way to make it special."

A warm, happy smile spreads across our faced, so happy that our friend is going to lose her virginity to love and not Freddie Hill in the year above whilst listening to Eminem in the back of his Rolls Royce. Not a good year for me.

"Well, that's really romantic, Blair." Serena takes her hand, "_Really_."

"I agree." I say leaning back into the sun and nodding at Blair, "Knowing you, it'll be perfect."

A sweet moment passes by as we all just relish in our friend's (who has been so lacking in company over the last ten months) much needed happiness.

"Look, um, if you don't want me to come tonight, I totally understand." Serena blurts out, spurring Blair on to sit up, her velvet dressing gown creasing as she moves about.

"What? No, I want you to come."

"And if _I _have to go," I interject accusingly, "then _you _have to go."

"_Both_ of you are coming no matter what because, in fact, I was hoping you would be two of my ladies." She glares at me quickly, enforcing the words as law, and turns fully to Serena, who she smiles reassuringly at, "Would you give Nate the last clue?"

"Are you sure you want me to?"

"Tonight is all about starting over." She nods at Serena with brave certainty. "I trust you… and him."

There is no doubt that this is a big moment. It's been a month since Blair found out that Serena slept with Nate and even though they're fine now, sometimes I catch Blair looking at Serena, who might be talking to Nate or even discussing him, with mistrust. So this is a big moment, this is a next step in the repair.

Serena bounces up with joy, "Well, then I will be honoured to serve you, my Queen!" She bows theatrically causing a rare and genuine laugh to escape from the usually so uptight Blair.

"Well, besides, you're bringing Dan, right?" Serena's face suddenly falls as she remembers her maybe-boyfriend Dan, and what he'll think of this whole masquerade thing. A pre-ordained date to the ball means seriousness, and they'd only gone out two times so Serena had to tread carefully in order to not scare Prince Charming off.

"I know him," she argues, "A masked ball? Dan would never want to go to something that pretentious, where he has to wear a mask and a tux?" I snigger at the picture of Dan Humphrey in a penguin suit, and then chuckle at the picture of Chuck Bass dressed like a penguin.

"He likes you. He would wear a tux _and _a mask and one of my mother's dresses if it meant that he could come out with you. Come on." Serena blushes with embarrassment, "And, really, are you worried that he already has a date? I mean he is Dan Humphrey." She chuckles, earning a soft pat from a smiling Serena.

"Shut up. I don't know. I guess a masked ball is better than a regular party because then all those people from school that he hates – he won't even recognize them."

"Serena, I'm sure it'll be fine," I shrug in agreement, "I'm not bringing anyone so - worse comes to worse - you can turn up with me."

Bair scoffs, levelling her eyes at my fluttering ones accusingly, "What do you mean you aren't bringing a date? Isn't the love of your life, Chuck Bass going to take you?" I clench my fists. All week they've been hammering me about what happened last Friday at the club. They're adamant that we slept together despite my utter wish for them is to shut-the-holy-fuck-up.

"No, he isn't because Bass isn't the love of my life and I don't want him to be."

"Yeah sure," Serena throws back sarcastically, reaching to the pick up her phone on the bedside table, "But, and not because I don't want to go on a date with you Evie, I'm going to call Dan and just ask if he wants to go. It's no big deal."

"Yeah, sure." I pan, receiving another pillow to the face.

Giving us a warning look to be silent, Serena walks into the bathroom holding her phone to her ear and shutting the door behind her.

"Now you, it's time for a measuring!" Blair squeals, running to grab her measuring tape whilst I groan in misery. I've not exactly dropped a few pounds in my holiday away, if anything I've gained more muscle, but no one, and I repeat _no one, _likes to be measured.

Grumpily standing up and straightening my back, Blair rushes back and does what she does best- scheming.

Suddenly, Serena flies from the bathroom with a worried face, "Who's that?" She questions down the phone. A male voice is heard over the phone and Serena's eyebrows furrow at the door. We turn to see what she's looking at and Jenny Humphrey waddles in with a mile high pile of boxes and a huge Jenny-smile (!) on her face.

"Hi Blair! What do you want me to do with this stuff?"

"Oh, just leave them over there." Blair waves her to the general direction unenthusiastically, which Jenny takes in politely.

"Hey Jenny," I greet, arms straightened out at either side so that Blair can get the length. "How's school?"

"It's good, thanks Evie."

"I left you another list." Blair interrupts, and Jenny half staggers to the coffee table to get it, clearly enthusiastic to do Blair's bidding – which can only be a bad thing. Jenny's eyes widen when she reads it before letting out a choked laugh and running to get it done. It's was a bit unfair of Blair to leave her with so little time to do all of the boring shit that Blair doesn't want to do, but maybe Jenny will see what a complete bitch she is and then get over trying to be Queen B.

Yeah, sure.

"I'm sorry. Uh… what?" Serena replies, looking completely lost and dejected. "No. Uh, no, never mind. Have a good day. Bye." She hangs up the phone, shaking her head in disbelief.

"What happened?" I ask moving my head to the side so that Blair can continue her administrations.

"He said that he was with his sister. I think I need a date." Blair freezes, mouth agape. She rolls up the measuring tape before taking Serena's hand.

"We'll find you someone great, I promise. Dan Humphrey will rue the day he dishonoured the van der Woodsen name."

"Oh, boy. Watch out for wicked witch of the Upper East." I mutter. Blair spikes her elbow into my stomach before strutting off to get ready. I theatrically groan in pain, falling on the bed and grabbing onto Serena, pulling her down with me in a fit of giggles.

"Come on," Begins Serena after a few minutes waiting for the laughter to subside, "Kati and Is will be here soon, and don't think that you're getting out of picking out a dress."

"Yeah, yeah, as long as it doesn't light up I'll wear whatever you put me in."

{}

I was kicked out by midday, having been measured, Blair was content that I was no longer needed and considered me thereafter as 'in the way'. But I'm not complaining as it's given me time to get home, have a shower and do the Serena van der Woodsen famous pre-party prep, get into some comfy clothes and grab a book – all with hours to spare before I need to leave. I was into the third chapter of 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' when my doorbell rang. Still holding my warm mug of coffee, I shuffle in my slippers to the front door, swinging to open without looking through the peephole.

Band member Max from 3B stands in the doorway, hair still slick and wet from a shower, bare feet half hidden under loose jeans. He's not wearing a shirt and his drummer arms are visible in the t-shirt he's wearing. I try not to stare. Or curse Chuck for ruing something that could have been great.

In his hands is a box a lot like the ones Jenny was carrying, so I assume it's something for tonight that Blair got delivered. He holds it out awkwardly, and I take it without a word passing between us.

"Is it your birthday or something?" Max attempts, shoving his hands into his pockets and shrugging.

"Definitely 'or something'. There's this silly school dance tonight and my friend is dressing me."

"Must be a pretty special friend." I can tell by the tone of his voice that he assumes that Chuck is this friend who is showering me with pretty gifts in bowtie boxes.

"Yeah, she is."

"Oh-oh, right. Cool… cool." He leans back looking anywhere but me. "So, maybe I'll see you later." It could've been a standard 'see you later' or it could have been a more hopeful 'see you _later_'. But whatever it was, Max didn't clarify, he just nodded goodbye and walked off, leaving me with a gift box and an empty doorway.

Shaking my head, I decide to leave Max for later and place the box on my coffee table, snatching the note from underneath the blue ribbon.

_Something to wear tonight, so I know where to find you._

_-B_

I open the lid and almost (_almost_) gasp in fright. The damn thing was _white_.

"I'm going to look like I'm on my way to my own wedding." I whisper to thin air, "White? What is that girl thinking?" Taking it out and holding it up, the dress is sleeveless and simple in design, with the skirts billowing outwards ever so slightly. The bodice was patterned with delicate and subtle beading and at an angle the skirts shimmered with glitter ever so slightly. Don't get me wrong. The dress was beautiful but it gave me hives having to wear something that looked – and probably was – incredibly expensive. It was too much responsibility and I just couldn't do it.

I jump for my cell and poke in Blair's number. It goes to voicemail.

"Hey Blair, its Evie. Just calling to let you know that the generosity is appreciated but I can't wear the dress you sent me, it's just too expensive. I'll find something else. And don't worry, I'll get Serena to help me." I put the lid back on the box and take a final step away from it. If I was being completely honest, I already feel my resolve weakening.

I mean, it was such a nice dress and it would just go back into storage where it will be lonely… It's a selfish move on my part to even consider wearing it. Yet, really I'd just be putting it to use considering that it was made to be worn.

I take the lid off, take it back out, and display it on my bed.

"It would look great on me." I persuade myself, "you'd look like a princess and Evie Elma has always wanted to be a princess."

Sold.

**Why is it that friends of Serena van der Woodsen have to search for her suitor? Have fables fallen so out of fashion that the Princesses have to do everything themselves? Call us old school, but sometimes the Fairy-tale ending require the Knight to get off his ass and saddle up his steed. If a certain Bass can do it, why can't everyone other beast in the Kingdom?**

**XOXO Gossip Girl**

{}

The 'exciting' thing that Blair would rave on about is that, with masquerades, you won't even know who some people are. So she made a point to make sure that we all turned up alone. I didn't really understand, puzzled at how a mask will be able to mask every single identity but I didn't really see the point of complaining until I realized that I was trying to hail a taxi in a ball gown. Alas, eventually I got to the venue. People everywhere were adorned in various wigs and overlarge jewels as well as elbow length gloves and the array of different masks. Despite my previous convictions, I can't spot any of my friends in the crowd and head inside, assuming that they're already socialising.

The inside of the hotel is glitzy and very 'Pride and Prejudice', its sparkling features balancing out the dark décor, creating an atmosphere of magic and intrigue. A seductive bland plays over the speakers and I secure my plain white mask, making my way over to the bar by the entrance - which I remain at until Nate finds me. Being the first lady in waiting, I immediately apologise on behalf of Blair. He just laughs, saying that he would never expect anything less from her. After that he takes off, and I grab my second champagne flute before walking across the foyer and towards the dancefloor. Stray feathers from accessories spot the floor, adding to the weird effect of the party. I step over them, careful not to let one of my thin strappy heels slip and cause me to break my ankle.

"Ironic, isn't it?" I feel my back tense up as the voice of the Devil speaks behind me, I turn around and almost cry out with laughter. In a red tux and novel red horns, Chuck Bass is dressed as Old Nick himself. Typical. He playfully grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles, "The Devil and the Angel. You must be my lucky night." I shake of the image of last week and pull my hand away. He continues to stare at me, eyes penetrating through the mask and my glittery eyes before wandering down my dress. The corner of his lips turn up in his infuriating smirk. "With taste to boot."

"Apparently not. As I'm standing here and talking to you." I turn to leave but he grabs my wrist, spinning me back around to face him and pulling me in just a bit more. I can already smell him and floods of pictures wash in of my hands in his hair and his arm around my waist and-

_Stop it. Stop it now. _This is why I had avoided him all week: there is something wrong with me.

"Aren't you going to at least thank me?"

I scoff, "Thank you for what?"

A derisive laugh escapes his lips and he shakes his head in playful disbelief. He gestures to my dress and his smile widens at my clueless look. And then it hits me.

_Something to wear tonight, so I know where to find you._

_-B_

"The note said 'B'," I argue, causing him to laugh more at my embarrassment, "How was I meant to know that is was 'Bass' and not 'Blair'?" I tell myself that I wouldn't have worn the dress if I knew, but there's this nagging voice in my mind that is chuckling demonically, telling me that I would've done it for his reaction, for him to notice me.

The thought makes me want to be sick.

"It doesn't matter now," He says, eyes twinkling beneath the pronounced mask, "you're wearing it. Which means that I at least deserve _one _dance with you, before the rest of the peasants realise that you're the most beautiful one here.

"_Ha-ha_," Sarcasm laces my words but I can't help the little turning up of my lips escaping onto my face, "Fine. But only one. And then I'm going to the bathroom and swapping dresses with the first girl I see."

Chuckling, Bass tightens his arm around my waist and ushers me towards the dancefloor. There are some couples swaying in time with the music, too engrossed in conversation to really dance, and then there were the people that I would _preferred _to dance with, who were just bouncing up and down, doing whatever they like. That seems like fun, there's no pressure to perform, unlike now. With one hand on my hip and the other in my hand, Chuck moved me along, the Devil leading and me just following him.

It was strange to think about all that has changed in the past month. To think about Serena and Blair and the drama they've caused. As well as the change in character, in motives, of the friends I have known for years. Since I last saw him before the Sheppard wedding, Nate has grown more closed off, more thoughtful – and not like the insolent teenage boy that led Blair on for so long in hopes of getting with Serena. Whilst Blair herself has changed in subtle ways, her displays of social power have become more of a cry for help. Specifically crying for Serena who's more grown up then I'll ever give her credit for. It's hard to think that a year ago we'd be ditching Blair to party with strangers and now, so much has changed. Except for Chuck Bass, who's the same entitled rich boy, desperate to win me over, desperate for all things he can't have. It's safe to say that little has changed with Bass, even his hair has stayed the same. And yet, sometimes, very rarely, in moments like last week when he carried me to the limo, and the week before when he saved Nate from getting beaten up, something extraordinary happens and I no longer hate him.

Staring curiously into his dark eyes, I'm looking for that change because nothing seems right with us anymore. Nothing fits the way it should and I don't know why.

"You've been avoiding me." He spoke after a while. I hadn't realised time had passed until the first song has changed.

"Have I?" I whisper, barely aware of what we're talking about.

"Yes, you have. And I have to admit, I don't like it. I want you to stop doing it."

"Fine. But you have to stop doing _this._"

"Whatever do you mean by 'this'? Because I certainly do not know what you're talking about, Angel." He leans closer as he speaks, mouth becoming inches away from mine and his eyes hooded seductively. I want to pull away but my ghastly pride gets in the way and I refuse to budge.

"You know _exactly _what I'm talking about. Last weekend was a mistake Chuck, let it go. It never should've happened."

"But it did." He insists, pulling me closer, "And I can't just let it go, I'm Chuck Bass."

A moment of silence passed between us. Uncertainty was a wash of nausea. I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with Chuck Bass, or Max from 3B, or boys in general. Instead I just wanted to get through Constance Billiard and Stanford, save up enough to live somewhere different like Mexico City or Barcelona, read good books. What didn't help was the thought that's been in the back of my mind ever since I woke up in Bass' bed, the idea that with all the changes that have happened, maybe Chuck would change to.

"Evie!" I pulled away from my thoughts when Blair Waldorf, adorned in black fabric and a sparkly tiara, storms over with menace and vengeance in her eyes. "Have you seen Nate? It's almost midnight and I can't find him or Serena anywhere."

I pull back from Chuck but he still hovers, making sure that I don't escape, seemingly determined to see whatever he has planned through.

"No, I'm sorry, I haven't." She storms off and I turn to Chuck, who watches her leave with a snarky look on his face. "I know that look, what do you know?"

"Just secrets, a great deal of them." He sighs, puling me back in and dancing some more, as if it were a normal thing. "But none for ears like yours."

"Why not?"

"Because it will ruin your night, and that's the last thing that I want to do."

I didn't know what to say to that. So I didn't say anything. Instead, I let him slowly move me about in what I can assume is dancing, in our own thoughts for the majority of it. Sometimes, I'd catch him staring down at me and he'd smirk nonchalantly, and when I asked _why_ he was smiling like that, he didn't answer me, he just muttered something about 'dance partners' and 'jealousy'.

By our ninth song it was almost time to take off our masks and end the night. Surprisingly, I was apprehensive, scared that this Handmaiden's tale would strip away completely and I'd be left with the Bass I never liked, rather than the one I could dance with for a prolonged period of time without wanting to kick him. I have to admit that it was a nice feeling to dance with someone. It's been a long time since I've felt real intimacy with someone other the Serena and Blair. But I'm not saying that Chuck is that real intimacy, because he most certainly isn't, only that it's nice to pretend that you've got a date to a dance and that you've got the easy job of being oblivious to certain things. With the masks on, we can be anyone. Chuck chose to be the Devil and I, for once, decided to be the angel.

I open my mouth to say the words I've been dying to say for almost a year- but the clock chimes and the other partygoers around us squeal in delight. I look around and spot Blair, sullen and stricken as she glares daggers at Nate, who's only just arrived, her plans a failure. And then I look back at Chuck, who has a smirk on his face. His warm hand leaves my waist, leaving an annoying feeling of absence in its place, and reaches around the back of my head, undoing the tie of my mask.

Pulling it completely away, his eyes bore into my face and rest on my lips, which I subconsciously wet. I've seen that look from boys enough times to know what's about to happen. It's just a question on whether or not I _want _it to happen. Mere seconds go by before Chuck begins to lean in, his mask falling away also. Our lips become so close that I can smell the gin &amp; tonic that he'd had before and become so close that I can almost _taste_ it before I hit the mental wall and get knocked back into reality.

What was I thinking? All these thoughts of change and Chuck and changing Chuck and everything in between would lead to nowhere but silly ideas. Why, after everything, would Chuck-Freaking-Bass be the one to pick up the pieces? The idea was downright laughable and trying to make it exist is clearly futile.

"What are you thinking about, Angel?" Chuck whispers, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine.

"Leaving."

"Then why aren't you?" Smugness layers his words like syrup.

"I was just about to." I bite back, completely ready to drop it. I begin to pull away intent on being done with Mr Bass for a long time, but I should've know better than to wish for simplicity. This is Chuck Bass we are talking about.

"Now, now, Evie. Play nice." He's right. _Play nice. _This is a game, isn't it? _That's _what been missing, the element of competition that we'd forgotten about – or at least what _I've _forgotten about. It all fits back into place, and yet again I'm left the mockery.

"You're good, Mr Bass." I commend, tongue-in-cheek. "I keep seeming to find myself in these situations with you despite my diligence to stay out of them."

"Well you know what they say 'think of the Devil and he shall appear'."

"I think it's '_speak _of the Devil'."

"Angel, you can do anything you like with the Devil."

Nate chooses this opportune moment to come over and tell us that our limousines have arrived.

"I didn't interrupt anything, right?" Nate asks at which Chuck says 'yes' whilst I say 'no'.

Blair is waiting outside with her arms crossed firmly. I walk straight over to her and link her arm in mine.

"Where's Serena?" I ask and Blair just huffs and puffs more, indicating that she has other things to worry about then Serena. "Did Nate not make it?" She shakes her head, the brunette curls escaping her tiara.

"What about you and Chuck? Everyone said that you'd been dancing with him all night."

With Nate and Chuck just a few paces behind us, I lower my voice, "I'll admit that I was. But it's all just a part of this game which I'm starting to regret more and more."

"Then why don't you?" Suddenly, Blair stops in her tracks and turns to face me, determination and upset making a dangerous mix on her features, "Why don't you stop playing all these games Evie? Stop playing pretend. Because I know that that is what you've been doing for the past month. You've been playing this character and we all know it, even Chuck. That's why he's so intrigued by you. If you just tell us what happened at the Sheppard wedding you won't have to play the game anymore. And we can all _move on." _

I stand there in silence, shocked. Blair's spur of honestly leaves be battled and a little heartbroken.

"This is me." She says, gesturing to the stretch that waits patiently for her. Nate begins to follow behind her, saying his goodbyes to Chuck when- "Nuh-uh. No, you didn't find me by midnight. No happily ever after for you… I wanted us to start over, and you didn't even try." With one last gloomy look she gets in the car and drives away leaving us to our own pathetic devices. Sighing, shoulders limp in defeat, Nate begins to walk. And then there were two.

"Let me walk you to your cab." Chuck offers, hands in his pockets, my personal space unthreatened. I reluctantly nod and we head down the opposite direction to Nate in a surprisingly comfortable silence.

"About what Blair said-" Chuck begins when we're almost there, but I cut him off sharply and hurry to the cab.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I know." He grabs my elbow, releasing it as soon as I slow down, "Evie, I know. But when you do want to talk about it, I'll be here." He opens the yellow door of the taxi, giving the driver enough money to cover the fare and waving off my protests, "Don't be an idiot if you think I'm letting a girl like you go without owing me something in return."

I take in a deep breath, heart involuntarily skipping a beat. "And what's that 'something'?"

And, like a fairy-tale, Chuck's lips press once against mine, soft and sweet and all too welcome, before he stepped back, gave me a nonchalant salute, and walked away.

I was left with a numb sensation on my lips and a pit in my stomach that accompanied the dreaded thought that the storm would blow me away at any minute.

**The night is over and it looks like Evie's carriage is about to turn back into a pumpkin. How long did you really expect your little fairy-tale to last, E? **

**Tick-tock, tick-tock…**

**XOXO Gossip Girl**


	13. Half a Worm In Your Apple

**Hi guys! **

**Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing and checking whether or not I've been updated! I love all of you! This episode is kind of short but very important... lmao you might hate me but trust me that it's essential. Otherwise, enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl or any affiliated characters**

**Pinterest for story: manhattanapples**

* * *

"Thanks for giving me a lift, Blair." I say over the blaring horns of the morning New York rush hour. I wince as it ignites my headache into a full-blown migraine. "And thanks for the breakfast." I groan as I take a massive gulp of the black coffee which is warming my cold hands.

"What are friends for?" She mutters suspiciously as she eyes my unattractive snotty nose and equally unattractive fingerless gloves. "Just don't get bagel crumbs or you germs on my Italian leather seats." I scoff, which makes a disgusting 'squelch' in my throat. "I'm serious! Nate said that he'd take me to lunch during break and I need this car to be clean and for me not to be sick."

I'd had this cold for the last few days and it was wearing me down – I'd hardly been able to get my homework done or even pay attention in class. I just want to curl up in bed with a mug of soup but unfortunately that doesn't get you into Princeton. I just couldn't bear to get the bus again so I'd called in a favour.

"I'll be careful." I croak out before stuffing the rest of the breakfast bagel into my mouth. As I do so ketchup escapes from my barely touching lips and lands on my white shirt. A muffled expletive grunts out from the food I'm chewing as my fingers try to clean up the mess.

"Don't worry, you can sort it out when we stop off at Victrola."

Swallowing the goodness, I look at her with an accusing eye. "Why are we going to a burlesque club before school?"

"Chuck wants to get my advice on his proposal for his father."

"Chuck? Chuck _Bass_ is taking an interest in something other than parties and girls?" A disbelieving laugh is tagged on the end of the shocked admittance, "I'll believe it when I see it."

A few minutes later, we arrive outside of the club, which is as quiet as you'd expect it to be at 8 o'clock in the morning. Chuck waits outside, leaning against the wall with an excited and proud smirk on his face. Instead of his uniform, Bass is in a suit and tie. I'm surprised at the seriousness that he's already showing towards this plan he has. Despite my earlier admissions it's definitely a nice change to see him actually excited about something _real._

Climbing out of the town car, Blair and I are greeted with an enthusiastic (or as enthusiastic as Chuck Bass can sound), "Good morning." Before he quickly ushers us inside the establishment. However, just before he begins my phone rings. The screen lights up and an unknown number rings. I give a quick apology to Chuck and he excuses me with a wink and I flip open the phone and answer with a "Hello, this is Evie Elma?"

"Hi there Miss Elma, it's Jane Matthews, your landlord. I'm calling about the rent."

Starting to get worried, I think back to how much money is in my bank and how much money I needed to pay for the loft, "Is everything okay?"

"Not really, I've received no payment from you for this month or the last. Will you able to pay it in the next two weeks?"

_Crap._ The money my parents leant me must of bled out and I really don't want to ask them for more (purely because the last thing I want is for my parents to get worried and fly back) and I haven't even _thought _about finding a new job.

"Um… yeah, yeah that's fine. Sorry about that, there must be a mix up at the bank." I lie. In reality, I could probably afford to take out half of it from my savings account. But the other half I'd need to earn. Fast.

"Alright then. I expect to hear from you in a fortnight. Have a nice day, Miss Elma." And with that, she hangs up.

Part of the requirement for my emancipation is that I need to have a job. The only exception to this rule is for special circumstances and the court agreed to allow my parents to temporarily fund me whilst I… _resolved _these special circumstances. This included not having to be employed. But now that I'm back in school and there is no reason for me to be out of work I need to get a job quick otherwise I'll have to move to Russia to live with my parents. Which would be a disaster of immense proportions. Trust me on that.

Stalking grumpily back into the club, with a face that could make a thousand babies cry, I interrupt Chuck and Blair with a sigh so loud I'm sure my landlord could hear it from wherever her evil castle is.

"Something wrong, Evie?" Asks Chuck, leaning against the bar top whilst I plump myself on a seat.

"I have to find a job in the next few days or I'm screwed."

A Cheshire cat smile spreads across his face as he gestures around him, "Look no further! I can get you a job here like 'that'." He snaps his fingers, emphasising his point. "In fact, I'd happily pay top dollar for a few private shows..."

Bleakly, I reply, "Gee. Thanks. It's been my lifelong dream to strip naked in front of strangers and hide behind feathers."

"Like that's ever stopped you before." Interjects Blair smarmily, obviously referring to my wild party days when I would in fact dance semi-naked in front of strangers. I give her the finger.

"Anyway, enough about my own problems," I turn my attention to Chuck, "So do you think your father will go for it?" I ask seriously, looking around at the joint which has its own unique charm to which I can see why Chuck has become so interested in it… but Bart Bass on the other hand might not feel the same way.

"It is exactly the kind of innovative thinking upon which the Bass Empire was built. It is _the _perfect thing." He grabs a hold of my shoulders, almost embracing me in his excitement and I can't help but get excited with him, "I've been waiting for this."

"I'm happy for you, Chuck." I commend, with a genuine smile – not derisive or sarcastic. "I hope it goes well." Warmth radiates in his eyes at my praise and a fleeting moment of what seems like normality passes between us. Just two friends, sharing the happiness. No underlying tension or angst.

Blair looks at her watch with increasing impatience, "We are so late!" She says, grabbing my elbow and pulling me towards the door. "Are you coming?"

Chuck shakes his head, holding up his leather case which I assume has his presentation in it, "Gotta pitch it to Bart. Victory party here tomorrow! Evie, make sure you're there."

"I wouldn't miss it." I say, wiping my nose with one hand whilst Blair drags me out by the other.

"I'll send a car."

"Don't be nervous." Blair calls from behind her shoulder. "He's gonna love it."

_And if he doesn't, _I think to myself as we get back in the car and head towards school, _then its back to the old Bass._

…

"So," begins Blair as she, Serena and I sit on the steps of the St Billiards' courtyard, snacking on berries and nuts for our lunch. "I heard on Gossip Girl that you were having sex with Dan out here…" She turns an accusatory smile to her blonder best friend, "In streaming video."

"Ugh! God, Kati and Is filmed us?" Serena groans whilst I chuckle at the predicament, knowing full well what it's like for everyone on the Upper East Side to have access to your not-so-private life.

"Oh, it's all very 'High School Musical' scandalous." I take a strawberry and plunge it in the pot of Nutella, making sure that there's more chocolate spread then fruit. "And no, they haven't streamed it yet, but… I heard it was… aggressive."

I scoff, "By that she means it was full blown pornographic."

"Yeah sure, almost as pornographic as you licking the chocolate dip off of your fingers." My middle finger pops out of my mouth as she says this, _poetic. _"But joking aside, I must say that Dan has been surprisingly good at everything we've done."

Whilst I pretend to hurl, Blair's virgin interest peaks, "Which is… everything?" She spurs on.

"No!" Serena laughs, shocked, "But feel free to ask any personal questions."

"But you've talked about it, right?"

"No, mom, we haven't." Serena leans back and slaps my hand away from her food, "and stop stealing my food."

"Hey," I say with a wink, "If Dan can eat your strawberries, why can't your best friend?"

"Don't be so crude, Evie, you sick potty-mouth." Scolds Blair with a face as though she's sucking on a lemon, making Serena and I laugh more, "And may I remind you S. that this is your first _real_ boyfriend, and in relationships you talk about stuff."

"I know, I know," Serena reasons, her laughter dying down, "but I don't know, sometimes talking about it or planning it can ruin a good thing, you know?"

"Oh, get over it Serena and get laid. At least one of us need to be having sex." I put forth, feeling the frustration of the situation get to me: Blair wanting to do it but not being able to make it perfect and Serena avoiding it like the plague because she's scared of what it might lead to – but there's no need to over think it. If it's safe and consensual, it'll happen naturally. "As long as you're not worried."

"Well, I'm not," Serena certifies, "But I don't know, he might be. Is it possible for a guy to want to slow things down?"

"Only the guys _we _like." States Blair, "But with you, I can't imagine why." She finishes on a sombre note probably remembering the fact that her own boyfriend won't have sex with her but he'd definitely do it with Serena, who just rolls her eyes and shoves another strawberry into her mouth.

…

The first place I went into, they wouldn't even look at my application. It was a high-end fashion store (one of those places with white wash walls, minimalist furniture and staff who wear frankly depressing expressions) and they took one look at my ripped jeans and worn sweater and turned their expensive noses up at me. The second place was arguably more successful: the poor woman behind the sandwich counter grabbed my application without really thinking, nodding without looking at me as she stumbled about her little shop, sweaty and frantic to fill all the orders given to her by the rowdy crowd. Many of the other places I tried were the same – either they didn't want me or didn't really need me. I had been working my way up and down Manhattan since the end of school and I was no closer to getting a job than I was this morning. I'd handed out almost all of the job applications I'd filled out and all that was left was a few copies of my resume. Hopeless and pissed off, I collapse into an empty bench on the sidewalk and watch the cars drive by with their icy clouds of smoke and petrol fumes making a satisfying distraction, as I wait for my solution to appear out of nowhere.

I was only just starting to feel the cold when my phone chimed.

**Spotted: Bass drunk off his ass at the palace bar, drinking away his woes and his investment capital. **

A year ago, reading something like that would've made me crack a snarky smile and think '_Oh, poor Bass. Heaven forbid he can't buy a strip club'_ but what is making me click on his caller ID is an emotion that is entirely new when it comes to Chuck: sympathy.

He picks up on the fourth ring and this is how I know that he's more than a little tipsy.

"Normally I'd be ecstatic that _you _called _me._ But today is not one of those days, Angel." Chuck speaks into the receiver, his voice coming out in his usual huskiness but the hint of despondency isn't missed by me. "I'm not at my best."

"Yeah," I reply with an exasperated laugh, "that makes two of us." A chuckle is heard at the other end of the line but it's not Chuck's usual hearty chortle.

"Do you want to drink about it?" He proposes suggestively, the slight tone of playfulness already beginning to cheer me up.

"Truthfully I don't know if I'll be able to catch up with you." I say with a smile, "But, now that you mention it, I could do with a teeny-tiny favour?"

"Let me guess. You want a job?" Resigning myself to humiliation (as it's never pleasant to ask for help when you know you can do it by yourself), I bare my teeth and pluck up the courage to agree. "And what do I get in return?"

I could've pretended to think about it, to play dumb or act as though he was still the same sleazy Chuck Bass who propositioned my best friend on our first day back in New York but that would be lying. Chuck Bass has made me think that he isn't all he seems to be and a question like that isn't what is seems to be.

"How about a date?" I question, unabashed and unashamed. If Blair were here she'd tell me to give him a chance and that is what I fully intend to do. After the night of the masquerade ball he kind of deserves my better judgement.

"I'd me a complete fool to say no to you Miss Elma. It's a deal."

I made my way home after that, more than relieved to get through the door of my heated apartment, shed my boots for warm slippers and relax, knowing that employment was secured – and that Chuck was the one to help me secure it.

…

"Crap. Crap. Crap." The mantra is repeated, my voice rising in volume as I become increasingly frustrated. With two minutes until my cap arrives, one shoe dangling off my foot and the other missing, with my house keys seemingly disappearing into thin air and my styled hair already falling apart, I feel like a mess. "Shit on it." I exclaim as the foot that is bare hits the side of my sofa as I rush towards the telecom when the insistent buzzing continues. Pressing down on the mic with more force than I necessary I burst out a "Yes, yes, I'll be down in two minutes!"

"Evie. It's Nate. Can I come up?" Suddenly, I freeze. Thinking that I'm going mad, I check the time. And then check it again because I was meant to be at the club 45 minutes ago and yet, here Nate is on my doorstep when he should've been there already.

"Yeah, sure." I reply, buzzing him in autonomously. "I guess I should put the coffee pot on." I mutter to myself as I resign to take my one shoe off and pad my feet into the kitchen to start making drinks. Nate sounds like he needs it. A minute later my door opens and shuts with a soft click. I turn towards Nate with two mugs of black coffee in my hand which I almost drop when I see his bloody and bruising lip. "Jesus Christ! What happened?" I exclaim, setting the drinks on the coffee table, grabbing a damp cloth and ushering Nate over to my couch.

"It's kind of a long story. You don't have to hear it if you want to go and see Chuck… I just don't really want to go home just yet."

"Are you kidding me, Nate? You look like a kicked puppy." I start to dab at his swollen lip to clean the blood, cringing in sympathy every time he winces. "As if I'm going to leave you upset and alone. Chuck will understand." _Or at least I hope he does._

"The day of the masquerade party Chuck and I found drugs belonging to Dad." I pause in my administrations, shocked. I drop the cloth and lean back on the sofa, utterly dumbfounded that Howard could've gotten into something like this. "He's got a serious problem, E. He'd rather pin the drugs on his son then face his mistakes and I've had enough of it."

"Is he the one that hit you?" A sullen nod is my answer and I immediately wrap my arms around him. "I'm sorry, Nate."

After that Nate told me everything on his mind: Nate's bitterness towards his father's choices and how annoyed he is that Blair never seemed to have the time for him – only when it was convenient to her. Hearing about their breakup startled me as I know how deeply they do care about each other but I suppose it was just the wrong time for them to be together. In return I spilled some of my own guts. It was so nice to have everything slow down for a second and Nate was a good listener. I told him about my worries about money and not wanting to have to fall back on my parents (who are just waiting for me to fail. I also told him about Chuck who, up until recently, I had no faith in. However, so much has changed in such a short period of time and Chuck Bass is no longer the spoiled and ruthless playboy. Instead he's driven rather than vain and charisma and charm have overtaken his previous sleaziness.

"Be careful with him." Nate said when I had finished presenting my observations, "I've noticed it too but that doesn't mean who he was a month ago isn't very much still apart of him."

"You remember what I was like a year ago," I remind him, "and if I can change, why can't Chuck?"

Nate didn't say anything after that, instead he chose to call it a night – or morning as time had flown by and by the time we'd finished talking it was almost one o'clock and our coffees were stone-cold – giving me a friendly hug and slipping out of the door, his shoulders not carrying as much weight as they were when he walked in.

Stretching out a huge yawn, I loosen my hair from its bun, climb into the cosiest pyjamas I own and crawl into bed finally feeling the effect of the last two days. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I send Chuck a quick apologetic text explaining why I didn't turn up and assuring him that we'll celebrate his win on another occasion. Having clicked 'send', I drop the phone and snuggle into the duvet, fully content with the world.

And then the chime of my phone breaks the content silence.

In the dark, I fumble for my phone assuming it's a reply from Chuck only when I open an eye to look Blair's ID presents itself on the screen.

_**Evie, please call me when you get this. Something happened.**_

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**Can you guess why you should hate me?**

**Just know that Chuck and Blair's limo scene isn't as romantic as in the show - you'll find out more next chapter.**

**I also apologise for any mistakes (I haven't proof read it) and for the lack of Evie/Chuck scenes - their will be MANY more in the next chapter.**

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW !**


	14. regret naming chapters after apples

**Thanks for the reviews! I appreciate every one of them!**

**Hope you like the chapter or at least I hope that you don't entirely hate me by the end of it.**

**Evie's dress for the party is on my Pinterest: manhattanapple**

**Song for chapter: Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks just for the bants.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl**

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I ask you to imagine a scenario much like the one I'm in – I'm sure you can. For example, you could use coffee. If you were to discover that the white Americano with cold milk that you ordered, whom you love dearly and have shared distinct, happy memories with, rebelled and fraternized with steamed milk (which completely changes the quality of the drink), how would you proceed? Even though you like flat whites and may have some desire to drink steamed milk, could you forgive your Americano, especially if it claimed that the whole fornication was a mistake? Nothing in the 'Rule Book of Caffeine' says that coffee and steamed milk cannot mix, nothing states that the individual has soul control over what happens to your coffee between ordering and receiving – so can I really be angry at Blair for having sex with Chuck? The answer is, of course: damn-fucking-straight.

You may disagree, telling me that I am wrong for feeling hurt as I never staked any claim (besides the occasional intimate moment) on Mr Bass but that doesn't mean that the son-of-a-bitch can screw my best friend, _his _best-friend's girlfriend, and not receive any kind of cold shoulder. And as for the Americano herself, she was selfish in what she did. Blair knew that this would hurt me, or at least assumed that it would (based on her belief that Chuck and I were fated lovers) and yet she still got into the back of that god-damn limo. And I can't even comprehend how Nate would feel if he ever found out. Over the phone Blair begged me not to tell him, pleaded that it was a mistake and that Nate should never know her betrayal and I promised I wouldn't say anything but that doesn't mean I condone what she did to him. To me. How can she hold what Serena did with Nate against them when she does the very same thing? It's ludicrous and it's hard to decide who I dislike more at the moment.

I've shut myself away, refusing to answer any calls from Serena or Blair or he-who-shall-not-be-named, Nate being the only one that I respond to. Quite frankly, the boy is fucked. His father is in prison, the charges made public knowledge, his mother is being a general piece of work and his girlfriend (although he doesn't know it yet) had dirty sex with his best friend. Making sure he is okay is the least I could do.

When I woke up this morning I was seething, the hurt boiling over quickly as my mind comes to its own conclusions, the main one being: Chuck Bass has not changed a single bit. Yet, I'm not so much bitter about the discretion itself but the fact that I fell for whatever spiel he was dishing. I've wanted to kick myself all day for trusting and believing that he had changed. I gave the guy a fucking chance and he blew it. Period. Done. It's over. Nothing – and I mean _nothing_ – will ever allow me to make the same mistake.

It is now early afternoon and I'm staring at the neatly wrapped present on my coffee table, the pink wrapping paper tagged with 'For Blair' mocking me in its innocence. Her birthday party was tonight, and I had promised last night that I'd still go just as she promised that Bass was officially uninvited. Alas, looking at the gift I know that an album of our friendship - that was so lovingly made - is the most depressingly ironic present I could give under the circumstances. At the moment I could not bear to watch her open it, and flick through pages of photographs all whilst trying to pretend that those smiling girls in the pictures still exist. Too much has happened. I thought it would be nostalgic to peruse the album, comment on how much we've changed over the last seventeen years but ultimately come to the conclusion that our friendship is everlasting. Now it just feels like a lie – a satire. When I look at this present I'm worried that I won't be able to pretend that I'm okay with what happened because I'm not – although perhaps I should be. This is where I struggle to understand the bitterness I'm feeling; it is unwarranted; Chuck and I were not together; Blair made a genuine mistake. However, I'm still sitting on this sofa, staring at this gift, still not being able to motivate myself into getting ready for Blair's seventeenth birthday party.

At three o'clock an almost hesitant, quiet knock sounds on my front door. Groaning, I drag myself away from my spot on The Couch of Self-Pity™ and swing the entrance open with a huff. Max stands there – you remember Max, right? – hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets, the smile he had falling slightly as he takes in my displeased expression.

"I never seem to get the timing right." He greets with a wary laugh. I obviously look like a thunder cloud by the way he seems prepared to duck-and-cover.

"Sorry," _Not really that sorry, _"I've got a few things on my mind." Choosing to leave him to decide whether he'd like to venture into the dragon's den, I walk to the kitchenette and pour myself a large mug of black coffee. I offer him one when I hear his footsteps pad behind me, he accepts and a few minutes of standing in silence pass before I decide to partake in conversation. "So, what did I do to earn a visit from you on this fine day?" Putting his mug down, Max nervously runs a hand through his hair.

"Well, you know when I said that I wasn't into the whole competing with a millionaire playboy thing?" At the mention of Bass, I take a slow drink of the bitter liquid, wanting to feel the harsh taste in my mouth in hopes that it would replace the foul thoughts that his mention brings. I choose not to answer, waiting for him to continue. "Well, I just thought that- I mean, I've been thinking that maybe-"

Where he's heading is obvious and not entirely unwanted. In fact, perhaps this is what I need. Previously, when Max was around, Chuck was still on my mind and there is no disputing that I was holding out for something. My neighbour was right to think that there was another reason (besides Nate needing my help) behind me leaving our date. But now, there is no Bass. The bastard hadn't even deemed me worthy enough to apologise for leading me on when all he really wanted was a good lay, a need that my best friend so kindly placated for him. It was radio-silence from his end, and I hate to admit how awful that makes me feel.

I don't believe in fate or destiny but karma is hard to ignore, especially when yours is standing in your kitchen asking you for another shot. I'd be a fool to look this gift horse in the mouth. I'd be an even bigger fool is ignore the fact that seeing Max again makes me giddy with a mixture of girlish excitement and pure revenge. It is a well-known fact that jealousy breeds bitterness and although I really don't want to admit that I'm jealous of what happened last night, I can't help but recognise my acrimonious mood. It is also a well-known fact that bitterness breeds spitefulness. And if there is one thing that Evie Elma is known for, it's how to be spiteful. And if being spiteful means spending time with an attractive musician whom I genuinely like, whilst also being in a public area where news will get back to Chuck whether or not he's present then I will be fucking spiteful.

"How do you feel about birthday parties?" I interrupt his nervous ramble. The question causing his eyebrows to rise slightly in surprise, as if he was so subtle about his intentions.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Evie?" The question is genuine but Max can't seem to help the grin: and neither can I. "How progressive."

"This is the 21st century, Max." I bait, the foul mood I've been in slowly giving way to the flirtation that so easily comes when I talking to the musician. "So may I escort you to a soiree this evening?"

Max pretends to ponder for a moment, rocking back in mock-thought. "A birthday party, huh? Do I have to get them a gift?"

"No, but _I _certainly wouldn't mind one."

"I'll bare that in mind."

"So, do you wanna go with me?"

"I think I can cancel my plans for tonight."

"Good, pick me up at seven."

"By 'pick you up' you mean 'meet you in the lobby'."

"Yes. At seven."

…

At eight, I finally decide that Max has waited long enough: there is fashionably late and then there is just being cruel.

I descend the apartment's staircase, the clicking of my heels notifying Max of my presence. From where he's leaning against a column in the foyer, having just checked his watch for most likely the twentieth time in the last ten minutes, I notice how Max's short, blonde – usually messy – hair is neat and how the shadow of a beard he had this morning is absent from his chiselled jaw. But that's not even the biggest change: instead of the worn t-shirts and the ripped jeans a tailored suit sits handsomely on his form and not even a partially blind, closeted nun could deny that Max cleans up _very _nicely. In fact, he's so nice to look at I don't even realise the way he's staring at me. Yeah sure, my dark emerald dress was chosen to show off what little chest I have and I'll admit that I'm not at all dissatisfied with my appearance but all of a sudden I'm feeling very much like a stumpy, overweight tom-boy in comparison to Max's impeccably good looks. But of course, I wasn't going to let him know that.

"How do I look?" I ask disguising my nerves, giving him a confident spin when I reach the bottom of the stairs.

"So awful it hurts to look at you." His reply seems more like an automatic response than our usual witty back-and-forth. Max's faraway look in his bright blue eyes do not seem to register that he's spoken at all: too busy shredding my nerves to ickle-bickle pieces.

"Perhaps I should go change then?" I mutter, unnerved by my body's response to the palpable tension and suddenly I feel like I don't want to go to the party at all. In fact, maybe Max could come help me… _change._

"Fuck, don't do that." I nod, smiling uncontrollably as I move closer to him, taking in that clean smell, the absence of strong cologne being remarkably comforting. _Chuck who?_ "We're already late enough and if we stay here too long I don't know what will happen."

"Blair would send an army. There is no way she will allow me to miss this." He offers me his arm which I am almost too eager to accept.

"Then inform the cavalry that we're on our way."

**Spotted: **

**E on her way to Blair's Birthday Bash, accompanied by someone whose name does not rhyme with 'Buck Chass'. Does Evie know that plus ones aren't allow? Or **_**wanted**_**. **

**Do I smell jealousy or is that just the Sushi?**

I'm not sure what Max was expecting from a seventeenth birthday party, especially being older than the rest of us, but even _I _was impressed by the set up. I'm not sure what it is about Japanese culture that screams 'Blair Waldorf' but there is no doubt that this is her birthday party. Everything was planned to a T; arcade games were set up; sushi was being served fresh at the bar; the playlist sounded like it came straight out of an anime; and even the apartment's normal décor had been altered to suit the theme.

"Woah." I hear Max mutter from under the music, clearly impressed – or perhaps intimidated – by the meticulous detail: the perfect first impression of Blair.

"Evie!" Serena bounds over from where she was sitting at the bar, her face lighting up in interest when she notices Max standing next to me. Giving me a quick hug, she introduces herself.

"Hi, I'm Serena. You must be Max." He nods, giving her a polite smile, "Evie's told me so much about you."

_Fucking liar, _I telepathically scold her. I've never said anything about Max and she knows it – any chance to embarrass me.

"All good things, I hope." He replies, an arm coming to wrap around my waist. I almost jump out of my skin at the touch but I soon relax into it, trying desperately to not compare it to the interaction with that guy whose name I can't remember right now. Yeah, definitely am not noticing how small I am compared to this giant of a man and how wrong that feels. I also most certainly haven't scanned the room at least five times in search of this person that I cannot seem to remember. "So, Serena, are you the one that I need to wish a happy birthday? Because you do not look a day over eighty."

"No, you're looking for Blair." Serena corrects with a giggle, "But I think she's out on the balcony at the moment. She's just talking to Chuck but she should be back in a moment."

I feel my entire body tense up and I'm sure my face is starting to look as green as my dress.

Blair told me –_ promised me_ – that he wouldn't be here. But then again, when does Chuck Bass ever do what anyone tells him. And now he is outside with her, as if rubbing it in my face that I'm the fool. _Haha! Jokes on you Elma – you suck. _Serena seems to notice my discomfort as she sends me a worried look before offering to show Max around, who is reluctant to let go of my waist but I don't believe there has ever been a man (regardless of whether the man wants to get in her pants) who has denied Serena Van der Woodsen.

Despite hating myself for it, I take this moment to stand in view of the balcony so that I can discreetly gage what is happening between the two love-birds outside. And what I see is anything but love. Chuck is shouting, waving his arms around trying to meet the ferocity of Blair's own aggravated hand gestures. The conversation is heated, Chuck looks noticeably perplexed. _Good,_ I think, _I hope you suffer for a while._

I observe for another moment before a glass of champagne is placed into my hands and my attention is rightfully taken back by my date.

"You okay?" Max asks, following my previous line of sight to the two outside. "What's going on out there?"

"I'm not sure and, quite frankly, I don't care." I dismiss the entire topic with a small salute with my glass, thanking him for the drink, before gulping down the whole flute in one smooth, practiced motion. A waiter passes. My empty glass is soon replaced.

"Is that the guy?" Max asks, wearily looking between me and the death grip that I have on the drink.

"He is old news, and that is the end of that. I just hope Blair is okay." What I tell him is half a lie, I do hope Blair is okay but that isn't the reason why I'm hyper aware of what's going on out there. Which is why I shit myself when Chuck slams through the balcony door, a downright stormy expression on his face. Aimed at Max, who has no idea this is happening. Whom Chuck is making a beeline for.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Blair hurries after him, the end of her sentence being caught as the pair make a stop in front of Max and I.

"-Bass, don't you dare!"

"Excuse me." Bass speaks, interrupting Blair, demanding the attention of my date who turns calmly to stand next to me. If I were stupid I wouldn't notice how close Max decided to be, I wouldn't understand that him placing a hand on the small of my back was his macho way of showing that tonight he's with me. "I'd like to introduce myself to Evie's new _friend_. Chuck Bass," He introduces, holding out his hand to Max, who shakes it firmly, "Upper East Side welcoming committee."

Sirens are ringing in my head. Chuck doesn't know that I know about him and Blair, which means that in his point of view I've purposefully scorned his reputation by bringing another guy: he thought he had me, and now that he doesn't he wants to play victim. But Chuck Bass isn't a victim, _oh no_, he'll find some way of coming out on top. Which means that I need to get Max out of here – fast.

"Happy Birthday Blair," Plastering a smile on my face, despite the tempest of nerves making me want to vomit, I pull Blair into a tight hug whispering harshly, "If you want me to forgive you, get Max away from Chuck." Of course, eventually, I will get over Blair's mistake but she doesn't need to know that.

"Thank you for coming, Evie." Bair says with genuine remorse before standing in between Chuck and Max, who have been eyeing each other up like two hungry dogs. "And Serena said your date was handsome but she didn't say he was strong." I see Chuck's jaw tick at the word 'date' – _that's right Bass, daaaaaaaaaate. _"You wouldn't mind helping me move some of the bigger presents into the spare room, would you Max?" Blair bats her eyelashes, doing her finest Scarlet O'Hara impression. Max looks at me for approval, which I give with a (hopefully) reassuring smile.

Only, as soon as the two scurry off, and I'm left alone with the one person on the entire planet that I do not want to be left alone with, I regret my decision and immediately turn to walk away. However, Chuck obviously has different plans as he takes a hold of my arm, pulling me though a nearby door. Which turns out to be a bloody broom closet. Turning on the light and shutting us in, Chuck moves close to me, probably using the inadequate amount of breathing room to get into my personal space. His appearance is as preened as ever and I do not enjoy how even when I am this hurt and angry my body still responds to the suit he's wearing and those god-damn eyes. Those pools of mischievous thought that remind me of rich, dark chocolate – so bad that it tastes good.

"You've been avoiding me."

"Oh really, I haven't noticed." My attempt at keeping my voice neutral fails miserably, the anxiety begins to make my words shake. "I thought that I'd only just got here ten minutes ago and haven't even got round to avoiding you yet."

"I don't mean now. Where were you last night?" Chuck tries to keep his tone light, but the accusation in his eyes still manages to creep through. _I swear if the next thing that comes out of his mouth_ – "Were you with _him?" _He spits out the barely contained allegation and it makes me want to cry out with anger and kick puppies and stomp on flowerbeds but I refrain from giving him the satisfaction of seeing my frustration: instead, I laugh. Hysterically. I guffaw as though I've just been told the funniest joke in the entirety of comedic history; at the idea of Chuck being so paranoid. But what almost brings me to tears is Chuck being angry at the idea of Max being the reason why I didn't make it to Victrola last night.

Chuck is thrown completely by my response. He probably thought that I'd beg for his forgiveness. He probably has a pretty image in his head of how this night will turn out but, _boy, _is he wrong.

"By 'him' you must mean Nate, right?" I throw back when I finally manage to compose myself. "You know, you're best friend who came to me last night, with a face bloody and bruised?"

As I continue, power surges in me and I dare to take a step closer, diminishing any space between us as I stare down into those eyes – which no longer look as confident as they once did: he knows it too – Evie Elma, the almighty bitch, is about to show him up.

"And do you know why 'he' was with me last night? Huh, Chuck? Do you know that he came to me because his girlfriend was _busy_?" I see the realisation flash before his eyes and suddenly all the colour washes off of his face. "What _was_ Blair doing that was so important that she couldn't pick up her phone?" Chuck looks to open his mouth but I don't let him – I _won't_ let him. "So, the real question is: Where the fuck were _you _last night?"

There's a beat of intense silence and for once Charles Bartholomew Bass doesn't have an excuse. I have no doubt that I'd be able to hear the crickets if it weren't from the steady thud of the music coming from behind the door. My chest rises and falls as it recovers from its passionate delivery and I'm glad for once that Chuck is staring at my eyes (trying to gage my emotions) as it means that he doesn't notice how my hands are shaking and or how my bottom lip is beginning to tremble. Perhaps I'm not Evie the Almighty Bitch after all. Perhaps I'll continue to be played a fool, like I have far too many times in the past. Perhaps I really did see Chuck differently but this perception is a lie: I'll see a Bass experience guilt when Hell freezes over.

"I fucked up, didn't I?"

_Uh, I'm sorry – is it just me or did a pig just fucking fly? _

Chuck Bass. _Admitting_ that he did something wrong. _The _Chuck Bass is standing before me, with remorse in his eyes and sorrow in his voice. I know how hard it must be for him to do that but it shouldn't be. _He's_ the one that screwed up. _He's _the one that should be grovelling.

"If that's your apology for screwing my best friend literally less than six hours after you asked me on a date and then daring to accuse me of the same thing then you can go _fuck yourself_." When I feel those dreaded, treacherous tears well up in my eyes, I reach behind him, flicking off the light so he doesn't get to see me cry. Nobody gets so see Evie Elma cry. And in the darkness of this broom closet I mutter with as much venom I can muster, "Or maybe you can get Blair to do it for you." Before pushing past him, closing the closet door behind me, leaving him the same way I found him: alone.

I find Blair, Serena and Max at the Sushi bar, smiles all around and so I match them tooth for tooth, plastering the biggest grin I can conjure.

"Everything okay?" Max asks, no sign in his eyes that he knows I was with Chuck in a cupboard for the last ten minutes.

"Yeah, I just had to use the ladies." My eyes meet those of Serena's, and then Blair's, as we all silently communicate that I am in distress and that Serena is in distress, and also Blair is in distress. _Good, _I think, _we're all in the same boat._ "I hope you didn't miss me too much." I flirt, trying not to show the anger that hides beneath the surface of my happy façade.

The ping of the elevator sounds next to us. Dan Humphrey strolls in with some brunette beauty on his arm. Serena noticeably tenses although she maintains her glossy, angelic appearance.

"Dan, you're here!" Serena squeals before noticing his guest and adding on rather disappointed, "and, um, and you brought Vanessa. Hey. Good to see you." She turns to our little group, her eyes desperately seeking help, "Uh, Blair, Evie, this Dan's friend Vanessa. Max, Dan is my boyfriend." The two boys politely shake hands, exchanging short, sharp pleasantries.

I barely manage to smile, busy picking up another glass of champagne, and Blair barely manages to wave, preoccupied with staring the poor girl down.

"Oh, sweetie, you did not tell me she looked like that. This is a problem." Blair murmurs, loud enough for Vanessa to hear. But I couldn't care less about how nice Blair was being when I'm stuck at a party I don't want to be at, with a date I really don't want to disappoint for a second time, whilst trying not to go back into that closet for round two with Chuck.

In the distance I hear the closet door slam. _Fuck, he's angry. _My back is to his direction, and I don't know whether he's decided to disperse in the general crowd or leave the soiree altogether. However, my doubts are answered when everyone's attention falls to the area behind my shoulder.

"I'm sorry to interrupt whatever kind of social formalities you're all so brilliantly performing," _please don't fuck this up, _I plead to Chuck silently, still not daring to turn around. "But I just want to wish the birthday girl a good night. Something's come up and I've got to go." _Oh._ _He's leaving. _"Max, it was nice meeting you. I have a feeling that we'll be seeing a lot more each other." At this cryptic goodbye I finally turn to look at him. That hurt little boy from the cupboard is no longer there, the Charles Bass who confessed his mistake earlier on had been replaced. The boy that was now standing so close, looking at me with cunning and laughter in his eyes, made me feel uneasy – the same kind of uneasy that a horse feels before a raging storm. I hadn't seen that look from Chuck since he destroyed his childhood tormenter, Henry Durnham's, reputation by sleeping with Mrs Durnham (the cougar) and spreading compromising pictures of her around school. I assume this is what Henry felt when he saw this same look that Chuck is giving me: a stare that says, "You're in for it now, Angel." But as soon as I saw it, it's gone. Chuck says a final goodbye to the group before sauntering away, as though he were the happiest man alive.

And when Chuck Bass is happy, people cry.

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**btw - we're close to finding out Evie's secret. Some of you may be underwhelmed but I hope that it has the opposite effect... **

**Review pls :3**


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